Flowers Can't Keep Secrets
by lucyzigg
Summary: Chris Jericho's secret admirer has been revealed, but the mystery is far from over! The sequel to Flowers for Jericho.
1. Plagiarism

DISCLAIMER: I do not own Chris Jericho, Nidia, or other wrestlers that appear in the following story. They are the property of the actors and actresses that portray them, as well as the WWE.

SPOILERS: Mention of battle royal from 7-26-04 Raw.

JUST A REMINDER: This is the sequel to Flowers for Jericho. If you didn't read it, then more than likely you won't understand a thing that's going on. If you like that sort of obliviousness, however, be my guest and continue :)

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Flowers Can't Keep Secrets

CHAPTER ONE

Imitation is the sincerest form of flattery. Or plagiarism, depending on who one asked.

Avoiding the curious eyes of both co-workers and technicians backstage, Chris Jericho kept a tight grasp on his bouquet of flowers as he navigated his way to his locker room. Only this time, he had done the purchasing of the blooms, not the receiving.

Oh yes, there was an agenda to fulfill tonight that had nothing to do with wrestling or titles.

It was all about the ladies, as Shelton liked to say. Two very specific ladies.

Despite last week's dinner invitation, Chris had made no effort to contact Nidia to set a date. In fact, the more days that passed, the more reluctant he grew about fulfilling such an obligation. He didn't have any sort of feeling towards her, beyond a slight admiration for her newly-purchased tits (which, rumor had it, was funded by a second mortgage on the double-wide that she had shared with Jamie Noble).

While it was a nice rack, it couldn't be compared to Stephanie McMahon's.

So, after consulting Shelton about the matter, the two men decided that the best course of action was for Chris to retract his offer of dinner. While Nidia would be crushed, no doubt, Chris would give her a bouquet of yellow roses as a peace offering and leave it at that.

Yellow roses, according to the flower dictionary, were a symbol of friendship. Chris only hoped that Nidia was as educated in the meaning of flowers as she appeared to be. Otherwise, he feared she may get the wrong idea and then he'd have to go through with the dinner out of pity.

If there was anything Chris Jericho could not stand, it was a pity date. Besides, he spent the majority of his free time feeling sorry for himself these days, and all because of Stephanie.

But that was a whole other can of worms. First things first, he wanted to get the Nidia situation over and done with. Finally catching sight of his dressing room, he scurried inside to drop off his gym bag. Automatically, his eyes scanned the room for any bouquets; a routine action that the Canadian was immediately saddened by. Unless a waiting bouquet was from Stephanie, they wouldn't have meant a thing to him.

_No such luck_, Chris thought to himself mournfully. While she continued to deny a relationship with the Intercontinental chump, she reportedly still had dinner with Edge last Monday, and was overheard to have said that she "cared deeply about him".

Chris snorted at that thought. Stephanie didn't care about anyone but herself; that's what he liked about her. Her selfishness reminded him of… him. And once he brought this to her attention, it was only natural that she would sever her ties with that loser and agree to have dinner with the King of the World.

But first things first, he had to get rid of Nidia… tastefully. Over the years, Chris had noticed that no matter how much one chick hated another one, would sympathize with one another if one was 'wronged' by a man. The idea made him grimace; the last thing he needed was a backstage chick rebellion against him. So, with the eleven yellow roses still in hand, he exited his locker room and went to search out the newest Raw Diva.

His search was over before it began, for the diva in question stood just outside his door, ready to knock. Her chocolate brown eyes dipped to look at the flowers in his hand before she met his surprised gaze. "Hey," Nidia said softly.

Chris, somewhat embarrassed for no particular reason, answered her greeting by thrusting the roses in her face. "These are for you," he quickly explained, praying that she would catch the hidden meaning.

Giving the blond man a slight smile, Nidia took the proffered flowers, burying her face in the blooms to inhale their scent. "Mmm… what are these for?" she asked.

The heat began to rise in his cheeks; he never expected to have to EXPLAIN this. He longed to make a snide remark and take the two steps backwards into the sanctuary of his locker room, but running away was not part of his M.O. "Well, um… you see…"

Understanding flickered across her face. "Oh, I get it! Yellow roses… ya just want to be friends huh?" she filled in for him, snapping her ever-present gum for emphasis.

Despite the fact that she got the hidden feeling, Chris worried that he was coming across as a schmuck. Usually he wouldn't give two shits about what she thought of him, but through his friendship with Shelton he had grown something of a conscience. _Just another reason to hate rookies_, he amended mentally. Again, though, he was little equipped to deal with these new moral developments, and thus did not know what to say to the girl before him. "Look, Nidia, it's not you, it's me…" he stuttered

In the background, he swore he could hear the trumpets sounding, calling to assemble the army of women for the rebellion. God, what had made him think of that cheesy line?

Nidia didn't lash out at the panicked man, much to his surprise. In fact, he swore he could see relief in her eyes. "Chill, Chris. I totally get it. We don't have to go to dinner; we don't even have to be friends if ya don't want to. I won't hate ya."

Trumpets? He was mistaken; he now heard a choir of angels singing the 'Hallelujah Chorus'. And yet…

There was that tugging again in the pit of his stomach. She had given him the easy way out, but that conscience thing was stopping him from taking it. Reaching out, Chris placed a hand on her shoulder, squeezing it gently. "Who said anything about not being friends? I did give you those roses, didn't I?"

"I guess so," she beamed, tilting her head upwards to give him her biggest grin.

Chris did not return her smile, his eyes catching sight of some faint bruising on her neck, just beneath her chin. "What happened here?" he questioned, his hand moving from his shoulder to trace a section of the bruise.

Immediately her free hand slapped his away. "Ah, that's nothing. Happened in the ring awhile ago," she explained quickly, her smile never wavering.

Jericho was suspicious, but let her odd behavior slide. After all, he knew little about her behavior in general; who was he to call her out on acting weird? "Well, I'd better go see what I'm doing tonight. I'll see you around Nids."

She giggled a bit at the nickname as her own hand touched the fading bruises. "See ya 'round, Chris."

With a final nod, Chris turned to his right and made his way towards catering, hoping to run into a technician. Or even better, the backstage coordinator. Catching sight of a headset, Chris strolled up to the vaguely familiar young man. "Hey kid! What's going on!" he announced loudly, falling into his boisterous facade.

The technician (Scotty, as he was called by his other techie friends) looked at the blond man warily. It hadn't been that many weeks ago that this same man had him up by his collar and was threatening to beat him into a pulp. Scotty didn't know what he had done this time, but he hoped that the cheerful greeting wasn't some sort of sick farce. "Look, if this is about Ms. McMahon…" he started.

Chris's brow furrowed; where on Earth had that come from? "What about Stephanie?"

Scotty blanched, realizing with a start that Jericho wasn't asking about his boss. Desperately he racked his brain for a cover; however, his degree in engineering did little to construct a decent lie. "Oh well, I, um, just figured you wanted to see her… since she's my boss."

His suspicions aroused, Chris decided that a little intimidation wouldn't hurt. After all, he felt as if he KNEW this boy from somewhere… "Why don't you cut the crap, Junior, and tell me what's really going on," he growled, stepping closer to his companion and extending to full height.

Convinced that the man before him was indeed bipolar, Scotty feared for his life. And, like most in his shoes, he did what came natural: gave the other man a hard kick to his shin. After Jericho yelped and crumpled over in pain, the young technician bolted in the direction of the gorilla, to hide behind said boss and pray for his safety.

It took only seconds for Jericho to recover.

And mere milliseconds to want to beat the shit out of that little bastard.

"GET BACK HERE YOU PUNK!" Chris bellowed, righting himself and running after the boy. He was convinced that the kid had panicked because he knew something about Stephanie. Something that people didn't know, maybe even something that Chris wasn't allowed to know. In any case, the secret involved Steph, and that was reason enough to break each of the kid's fingers until he squealed.

Stephanie McMahon was in her own little world when she caught sight of a technician running towards her. In the time it took for her to place the young man's name to his face, the running man had skidded to a halt beside her, and was now crouched behind the production boxes that she had spread her work upon. Thoroughly confused, she looked down at the trembling young man at her feet. "Scotty, what in the hell are you doing?" she asked, sidestepping a bit to the left.

"I didn't say anything, Ms. McMahon, I promise!" Scotty's muffled voice floated up from the floor.

As she processed his words, she caught sight of another man rushing towards her. This time, however, she didn't have to search her brain for his name; she'd know those tights anywhere.

Coming to a stop before Stephanie, Chris gave her a brief look before scanning the area. "Where did that little asshole go…" he muttered under his breath.

Somewhat displeased at his lack of a greeting, Stephanie crossed her arm and gave him an annoyed look. "Something I can help you with, Jericho?"

Unable to spot the technician, Chris forced himself to calm down and switch targets. This was the opportunity he had been waiting for: he was alone, with Stephanie, and Edge was no where in sight. Hence the alone part. "Actually, there is something you can answer for me, Steph," he responded, leaning towards the brunette.

Stephanie's eyes widened a bit at his suggestive tone, but she kept her cool demeanor. "And what would that be?"

"Well," Chris leaned even further, his face now inches away from hers and his voice dropping to a near whisper. "Did it… hurt Steph?"

Her brow furrowed; this was all too strange. Even Scotty had stopped trembling at her feet, listening to the odd exchange. "Did what hurt?"

"Did it hurt… when you fell from heaven?"

The King of the World? So he proclaimed. The Undisputed Champion of musical chairs? At the moment, yes. The master of cheesy lines? Most definitely.

Long live the king.

Stephanie snorted, unable to believe that she had walked into the oldest (and stupidest) pick-up line. "What's going on, Jericho? You know I don't know anything about this battle royal tonight, other than you're in it…" she trailed off as she watched his hand come towards his face.

Slowly, Chris moved to tuck a strand of her hair behind her ear, making sure that the backs of his fingers stroked her jaw line. His actions earned him a slight shudder, and he grinned. The line had been a ruse; designed to catch her off-guard so that he could work his real mojo. "The only thing going on, Stephy, is dinner tonight."

God, she was so confused. She blamed his hand (which was still trailing a feather-light caress on her cheek) for her complete inability to comprehend the current situation. "Dinner tonight?" she repeated dumbly.

Chris smiled broadly at her words. "Why Steph, I thought you'd never ask." _Hook, line, and sinker ba-by!_

Out of the corner of her eye, the brunette saw Scotty look up at her, a dumbfounded look gracing his features. His outward appearance was a rather good reflection of her inner reaction to Jericho's words. Deciding that her brain might explode from further contact, Steph moved her face away from Chris's caressing fingers. The lack of sensation immediately allowed the blood to properly flow once again. "That's funny, Chris, because I didn't ask. And besides, I thought you and Nidia…"

He cut her off with a dismissive wave. "If I was interested in her, then I would be hitting on her."

Steph inhaled sharply. "Oh," was all she could manage to say.

Chris was about to bring up the dinner plans once again when his Canadian nemesis strolled up to the scene. "Well well well, isn't this a cozy scene?" Edge remarked dryly, flipping his dripping locks over his shoulder and wrapping an arm around Steph's shoulders.

Chris gritted his teeth; his first instinct was to deck the douche bag for ruining his plans. And yet, Steph's words about the battle royal floated across his thoughts and an idea struck. "Just the man I wanted to see! I was about to look for you in catering, but I guess you've already been pulled out of the deep fryer."

Steph (and Scotty, who was still in hiding), tried not to giggle at Edge's confused expression. Edge's greasy locks had been a constant source of backstage humor for years, and yet the blond man was still oblivious to the jabs. "What are you talking about Jericho?"

Chris groaned; this idiot was his adversary for Stephanie? "I'm talking about the battle royal tonight, Edgeward. What do you say we join forces and get rid of the others?"

Edge stroked his chin. "I don't know… one shot from Batista and you'll be laid out as usual," he remarked with a grin.

Opening his mouth to retort, Chris was cut off by Stephanie. "But Edgie, you really can't cheat in a battle royal. Maybe you should reconsider."

Chris internally rejoiced at her words and at her apparent disgust for Edge's recent tactics. "What do you say? Watch each other's backs until the end?" Chris prompted, holding out his hand.

After a minute of silent contemplation, Edge grasped his outstretched hand. "You got it," he agreed with a toothy grin.

Chris mirrored his fellow Canadian's wide smile. Oh, he would watch Edge's back. In fact, he would watch it fly over the top rope as he eliminated the bastard. For Jericho had decided that he would be victorious over Edge both tonight, and in the long run, in regards to Stephanie.

The undisputed champion of her heart, after all, had yet to be crowned.

END CHAPTER ONE

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Author's notes: I know its late guys, and I'm truly sorry. I hope it makes sense; I've had to write it during my breaks of my first job, and rewrite it after I got home from my second. All this working is exhausting my CJ muse, to be sure :)

Let me take a moment and thank you all for coming back and reading this sequel. Your overwhelming response to Flowers For Jericho was truly amazing. I am lucky to have such awesome (and supportive!) reviewers. So honestly guys, thank you, from the bottom of my heart. I can only hope you'll enjoy this installment as much as the last. Leave me a review, e-mail me, IM, whatever, tell me what you think. Am I too heavy on the drama? Is Jericho's 180 in regards to Steph completely unbelievable (he is pining away for her, after all)? Let me know! Thanks guys, and take care!


	2. Orthodontics

DISCLAIMER: I do not own Chris Jericho, Stephanie McMahon, or other wrestlers that appear in the following story. They are the property of the actors and actresses that portray them, as well as the WWE.

SPOILERS: Mention of events from 08-02-04 Raw.

JUST A REMINDER: This is the sequel to Flowers for Jericho. If you didn't read it, then more than likely you won't understand a thing that's going on. If you like that sort of obliviousness, however, be my guest and continue :)

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Flowers Can't Keep Secrets

CHAPTER TWO

Orthodontics is a sensitive subject. Ask any teenager.

On a somewhat related subject, Chris Jericho was wishing to punch every single obnoxiously white tooth in Edge's mouth. _They would probably grow back like the rodent that he is_.

The rodent in question was, of course, a weasel. While Bobby Heenan made the term famous for his infamous behavior, it was Edge's recent antics that made him the newest applicant for the vacant title. And while the tall Canadian's cheating ways could easily be classified as weasely, Chris was more concerned with what Edge had managed to weasel out of his grasp.

Or rather, who.

Stumbling backstage (the stumbling a result of the stiff punch that Edge had given him in the previous Highlight Reel), Chris Jericho was greeting by the 'who' in question, who had a similar set-up near the gorilla as last week. Her blue eyes immediately locked on his, and Chris swore he could see remorse in her gaze. His mind spun into action, desperately wondering if she regretted her current situation and relationship with the IC champ; if so, that could be easily remedied. She then opened her mouth, and he shut down his internal monologue, as not to miss a single nuance of her voice.

"Evolution is going to dismantle you two tonight."

Okay, so it wasn't exactly a cry for help. But Chris contorted the statement into a concerned plea, and was thus satisfied. "Don't worry about me, baby. I'm sure they'll be something left of this body," here he flexed his bicep in her direction, "For you to manhandle back at the hotel."

Stephanie guffawed loudly, her eyes lowering back to her work. The master of cheesy lines, indeed. "And how do you know that I don't have any plans tonight, Jericho?"

Her words were a shot to his gut. Of course she would have plans with Edge; they were a couple, after all (or so the backstage rumor mill said). "So what are you and Fabio doing tonight?"

Her nose crinkled in thought. "Fabio doesn't have greasy hair…"

This time, it was Chris who cracked up. "Aren't you getting tired of your fingers getting tangled in that rat nest? I use Jhirmack," he stated proudly, swinging his head around to display his girly-gorgeous blond locks.

Before she could comment, Edge appeared through the curtain, his frog-like eyes still full of fury and a hand holding his nonexistent bloody lip. His demeanor changed as he glanced from Stephanie to Chris, becoming more haughty and incensed. Being the intelligent Canadian that he was, Chris walked away as soon as he saw Edge's gigantic jaws open to speak. Steph or no Steph, he didn't need to hear one more whiny bullshit line from that moron. In fact, he could be the newest king of bullshitters.

Somewhere in the Raw arena, Ric Flair broke down in tears, having lost his first, and most likely last, undisputed title reign.

Keeping a brisk pace to catering, Chris was held his head high and ignored the snickers from a few lollygagging wrestlers. No doubt they thought that he had been burned by that Trish comment; however, beyond a sort of surprise that Edge even cared to keep tabs on events outside of his little world, Chris had no feelings on the subject.

Nope, he no longer harbored feelings for that stupid backstabbing skanky bitch.

Arriving in the catering area, Chris spied his travel companion and another newly inducted friend sitting at a table. This struck him as odd; further, it looked as is the two were less than happy. Shelton's face was pure disgust, while Nidia's held a sort of complacency that seems to be inherent in frustrated women. Beyond curious at the subject matter that had been the source of these disgruntled looks, Chris tried to sneak closer, but a potato chip ruined his stealthy approach.

Two pairs of eyes locked on Chris; Shelton's fury immediately seemed to retreat into an odd sort of grimace. "Hey CJ, how'd it go with Fabio?"

Before Chris could respond, Nidia jumped in. "I don't think that's a good nickname, Shel. Fabio has much prettier hair than Mr. You-Think-You-Know-Me."

Chris groaned loudly. "Don't bring that up! I still don't understand what I don't know about such a one-dimensional creep. Even an asshole is in 3-D."

"That's a bit graphic," Shelton admonished, while Nidia merely threw her head back to laugh. Chris caught sight of the bruises on her neck; not because of their growing faintness but merely for the fact that they hadn't seemed to improve at ALL. It had been a week; logically there should have been some sort of change. So Chris, being the impulsive lad that he had a tendency to be, did what any nosey detective would do – he reached out and touched them.

Nidia flinched, her laughter stopping instantly.

And makeup smeared onto his probing fingers, revealing ugly red-purple bruises that couldn't be more than a day old, much less a week or two.

Feeling as if he was on the verge of something…. something, Chris eye-balled Shelton (despite the fact that it was Nidia's neck; she had lied to him before and as stated before, he had reached his bullshit quota). "Care to tell me what the fuck is going on?" the Canadian hissed, his fingers hovering just above one particular oval-shaped bruise.

Shelton ignored his gaze, simply choosing to lock eyes with Nidia. After a near minute of silent looks, the young man audibly sighed. "You know how Nidia was attacked by Trish a few weeks back when she won that match? Well, she and Tomko found out about you two being friends, and decided to choke her out earlier tonight."

Chris's mouth ran dry; and here he thought the Trish problem had been exterminated. "How did they find out?"

Nidia bit down on a finger, then played with her gum nervously. "Well, ya gave those flowers ta me last week, and I happened to walk by Edge when …"

If cartoons had some semblance of reality, steam would be flying out of Chris Jericho's ears. Enraged, he picked up the nearest item (a folding chair) and threw it at the nearest wall (adored with a picture of Eric Bischoff). Some people who witnessed the action cheered, thinking it was a retaliating gesture against the demanding GM. Others returned their attention back to their food, not particularly surprised that Chris Jericho was freaking out. He didn't have the reputation of being level-headed, after all.

Both Shelton and Nidia rose to their feet. "Chris, it's not a big deal," Nidia started, reaching out a hand to comfort the heavily breathing man. Before she touched his shoulder, however, he gave her a half-crazed look and, grabbing her hand, started dragging her down the hallway.

"Chris! What the piss!" Shelton half-shouted, having to jog to keep up with the pair. When he caught sight of Chris's eyes, however, he let out a breath.

Chris wasn't going to kill anyone. Well, not intentionally.

No no no, Chris Jericho had a plan. And judging by the look on his face, it was a doozy.

Due to the brisk pace, the trio reached Edge's locker room door a minute later. Finally releasing Nidia (who still gave him somewhat of a fearful look), Chris took measures to check the hallways for any nosey technicians. Once he was satisfied, he returned his attention to her. "Go in and see if he's in there," he demanded, nodding towards the door.

Her mouth dropped open, and her gum would have met the floor tragically (yet again) if Chris hadn't closed it for her. Once she realized he was seriously, she shook her head violently. "No way."

Making a whining sound in the back of his throat, Chris began to bounce on the balls of his feet. "All I am asking you to do is check. Just peek your head in, look around, and then come out and hide behind me and Benji. Please?" he begged, forcing his eyes to go large and his lower lip to drop in the dreaded puppy dog pose.

"Jericho, this isn't the best…" Shelton trailed off as Nidia turned, stuck her head in the door quickly, and then returned her whole body to the hallway. "Idea," he finished belatedly.

Thus was the power of the Chris Jericho Puppy Dog Lip. So pathetic, it forced any beholder to do the will of its master, if only to make the look disappear.

Despite the fact that her head was in Edge's locker room for a short amount of time, Nidia still gasped for breath from the adrenaline rush. "He's not in there," she stammered out, moving past the two to lean against the wall behind him. "So what are ya gonna do?"

The evilest of grins spread across Chris Jericho's face. "The ultimate in blackmail," he replied simply.

* * *

Much later in the evening, the participants in the main event were hanging around in the gorilla, waiting for their match to begin. Like always, Evolution took their position by the curtain; the three men assured that no one could surprise them with a sneak attack.

The hodgepodge team of Chris Jericho, Chris Benoit, and Edge were standing across from them, leaning on Stephanie McMahon's makeshift desk. Well, two out of the three members were; Edge had yet to appear.

"So Stephanie…"

"What now Chris?" she absently responded, keeping her eyes on her work. If he thought she would be distracted by him and his silly pick up lines, he was sorely mistaken.

Despite her brush-off, Jericho was undaunted by her scheme. "You know what would make you reeeeeeeeeeally happy right now?"

"It would make me happy if you shut your fat mouth," Randy Orton commented from across the hallway. He was ignored by both.

Knowing that he probably wouldn't allow silence as an answer, she sighed and set down her pen. "Why not? I suddenly find myself beyond irritated."

Chris gave her a wide grin. "Giving me your cell phone number."

The hallway was filled with groans. Benoit, more discreet than the rest, rubbed at his temples before gazing down the hallway. "I wonder what's keeping Edge," the champ growled, worried that Jericho would be too busy flirting to be helpful in case Evolution got rowdy.

Jericho, distracted in his attempts to get Stephanie's new cell phone number, couldn't help but grin at his stoic partner. "I'm on time, Chief! Do I get a gold star?"

His partner merely growled again, choosing to fall back into his trademark silence. Randy, overhearing the exchange from his position, stepped forward with a smirk. "What's wrong, did you guys lose the Scarecrow on your way to see the Wizard?"

Benoit puzzled over the barb, wondering if Orton just called him a teenage girl, while Jericho took a step towards Randy. Despite the disgusted look he plastered on his face, Jericho was secretly pleased that even Evolution thought Edge was a brainless fool. "You're saying that one of US is the Tin Man, when Old Man Flair over there has enough metal in his head to set off airport security twenty miles away!"

Flair turned red, tripping over his feet in his attempts to rush Jericho. Batista held him back, but barely. "Who are you calling metal, huh boy? I'll chop you to bits! Wooooo!" he threatened, not catching on to his rather ironic statement. Tin in the head will do that, unfortunately.

Before the two groups could make another move, Edge burst upon the scene, looking beyond distressed. In fact, his beady eyes looked to be swimming in tears. Glancing around, he caught sight of Stephanie and rushed over to her, a hand tearing through glistening hair. "Steph, call Bischoff. There's been a robbery!!!!"

Jericho looked at Benoit, then pinched his nose. "Do you smell French fries?"

Confronted by the soaking wet, anxious man, Stephanie acted on instinct and took a step or two back. Reaching to the pack that was clipped onto the back of her jeans, she flipped on the switch and looked back at Edge. "Alright, I'll call security. What is missing?"

The tall man wiped at his nose, desperately holding tears back. "My retainer!"

The secret behind Edge's perfectly aligned rows of teeth had finally come to light. After years of braces to straighten teeth that were called 'inbred fabulous', his orthodontist had given him his first retainer, warning him to always wear it or suffer the consequences of ugly teeth. While most teenagers wore their retainer a few times, then rebelled against the ideals behind it, young Edgeward wore it religiously. In fact, he had been wearing it for the last 18 years, scared shitless by the idea that he would wake up one morning and find his teeth to be crooked and ugly once more.

Impressionable? Yes. This was also the man who once believed his hair to be shampoo commercial-worthy; the stretches of his imagination were endless, to say the least.

Turning away, Chris Jericho's shoulders shook as he suppressed his laughter. Next to him, Benoit seemed to be making some strange noises, his stoic façade threatening to crumble. Flair's mouth fell open in disbelief, while Orton gave him a curious look, debating the man's sanity. Even Dave Batista's mouth twitched in amusement.

Inwardly, Chris complemented himself on the best prank performed to-date; ironically, he had Christian and his big mouth to thank for it. In his wildest dreams, he had never expected Edge to come out in front of everyone and fess up to his orthodontic brace, much less break down at its loss. He only wished Shelton and Nidia were around to enjoy it. Not that he wouldn't love giving the narrative after his match.

While the other men attempted to be professional, Stephanie flicked off her headset and openly chuckled. "I don't even want to know why you still have your retainer,"

Edge gave her a confused look. "I always wear it when I warm up…"

That was all that Chris could take. "I hope your Mama doesn't ground you for losing it," he exclaimed before erupting in laughter. Across the hall, Evolution was leaning against one another, pointing at Edge and laughing at something Orton had said.

Benoit, the professional that he was, remained quiet. His eyes, however, looked pained as he held in his emotions.

While they laughed, Stephanie and Chris's eyes met, but her smile made his laughter die away. Sure, she would laugh at his pranks (he knew that she knew he was the mastermind; her eyes held an impressed twinkle), hell she would even laugh at her boy toy. But she wouldn't give Chris her cell number..... it just didn't make sense.

Little did he know that after his match, he would find a Post-It note, bearing the message: 'Nice prank' followed by ten digits, sticking to his gym bag.

He may have lost the match against Evolution, but he would win the war that evening.

END CHAPTER TWO

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Author's notes: Hey guys; had some down time between the jobs so I threw this chapter together. I'm not especially pleased with it… don't really know why… I just want everything to be perfect I guess :) I just hope you guys liked it; leave me a review and tell me what you think!

Oh, and one last thing… I have had some comments about Edge being a jerk. Well, beyond my personal opinion about him (which Edge lovers would NOT want to hear lol), he is the antagonist in this story, and as such he must be a jerk. Sorry, but I hope you'll still read and judge the story for what it is, whether you are an Edge fan or not :) Thanks, and take care!


	3. Women Troubles

DISCLAIMER: I do not own Chris Jericho, Stephanie McMahon, or other wrestlers that appear in the following story. They are the property of the actors and actresses that portray them, as well as the WWE.

SPOILERS: Mention of events from 08-09-04 Raw, which the author attended :)

DEDICATION: To my brother, Charlie, who accompanies me to all WWE events, puts up with my hooting and hollering, broke up the fight between me and the snot nose kid behind me (who DARED to yell that Y2J sucked, moron), willingly took pictures of all the 'hotties' while I waved my signs around, and still bought me a Y2J t-shirt. You're the best, Booter :)

* * *

Flowers Can't Keep Secrets

CHAPTER THREE

There are two types of people in this world: those who use their cell phones only when necessary, and those who use it incessantly.

So Stephanie, being of the necessary genre, groaned in frustration when she heard the familiar ringing from her front pocket. Yanking it out, she glanced at the number, and then laughed at the pointless gesture. It was him; it was always him. In fact, it had been him the last seven times over six days. "You're a real idiot, you know that?" she answered, brushing formalities aside.

Chris Jericho did not miss a beat. "This is how you answer the phone? And you think your father will give you your job back, with this kind of customer service."

"I'll have you know that all my customers are satisfied in the end," she retorted.

Surprised by her flirtatious remark, Chris laughed out loud. "I think we better stop calling each other; you're starting to believe all those names I call you."

"I like how you used the term 'we', seeing as you're the one who constantly calls me," Stephanie said dryly. Looking down at her evening paperwork, she made it a point to sigh loudly into the phone. "I should go; Bischoff has a ton of Diva stuff planned tonight and God knows it takes an hour for them to line up, much less tape segments for the show."

Jericho grunted in understanding; thankfully, his own experience with the Divas on the Highlight Reel had also been his last. "I can bring you a cattle prod, if that'll help."

Steph giggled, initialing a paper and setting it aside. "I doubt it'll work on that redhead. If she's not on crack, then I'm a technician."

"Glorified technician," Jericho corrected.

She scoffed loudly. "Don't make me hang up this phone," she threatened.

With a grin, Chris peeked around the corner of the hallway he was hiding behind. There she was, a hundred feet away, a scowl on her face and surrounded by paperwork. Despite the fact that he could (and she would prefer to) talk in person, he preferred to stay on the cell. She seemed a lot more relaxed when they talked on the phone.

And a lot more flirtatious. Which, of course, pleased him to no end.

As she started to rant about her 'proper title' and 'due respect', Jericho's mind wandered back to the past week. He had called her once a day (twice on Friday when she excused herself to take a bath. He, of course, welcomed the break in order to take a suddenly necessary cold shower). At first, the conversations were little more than polite chats, awkward and full of empty silences. Chris never knew what to say, or how far to push the line, especially with Stephanie's relationship status up in the air.

Then, of course, the second call on Friday changed everything.

Feeling rather like a stalker, Chris called her close to midnight, ready to demand that she either declares herself taken or go out with him.

Of course, that idea went out the window when she coyly asked if he called to find out what she was wearing. After that moment, all serious conversations were avoided, as both of them took pleasure in the light, flirtatious banter.

It was the kind of progress Chris had been praying for. Now, he simply had to sever her attachment to the grease king and she would be his. Simple as that.

"You're not even listening to a word I am saying!" her voice yelled through the earpiece. An around-the-corner glance turned up a red-faced Steph, glaring at her cell phone that she held a few inches before her.

"Of course I was, Princess. I was just brainstorming ideas involving the cattle prod for us after the show," he said charmingly.

"For us after the show," she mimicked in a high voice. "Whatever gave you the idea that I would bend to your will and make plans with you tonight?"

Her words pricked his heart a bit, but he refused to back down. Opportunity was knocking loudly, and this time it would not fall upon deaf ears. "Because I know that while you pretended to be annoyed, you have loved every minute that I called to bother you this past week."

And Stephanie, being the necessary cell phone person that she was, knew that he had a valid point. Every call, as much as she hated to admit it, had been the highlight of her night. "Regardless…" she trailed off, not sure of how to start a serious conversation after days of lighthearted chats.

Edge, the ever-present thorn in Chris's side, picked that moment to ruin all chances of a date. Walking around the corner, the tall Canadian managed to miss seeing Jericho AND piss off Stephanie with one small comment. "Hey baby!" he greeted, taking his place beside her, his arm snaking out for a familiar spot on the small of her back.

The venom that flowed through Chris at the sight of him was identical to the venom in Stephanie's eyes as she glared at him. Cupping her hand over the mouthpiece (a pointless act, Chris silently noted), she jumped away from his touch. "For the last time, I am NOT your baby. And this is an important phone call," she chided loudly.

Before, he was pleased with the progress they were making. Now, he was fucking ecstatic. _Time to reveal myself to the competition, _he thought to himself as he turned the corner. "Stephanie? Are you still there?"

Hearing his voice, a male voice, come from her cell phone before she slammed it back to her ear, Chris gleefully watched as Edge's eyes narrowed. If she noticed the tall blond's stare, or the way he crossed his arms in displeasure, she did not address it. "Yeah, I'm here," she said, uncupping her hand.

"Good, because so am I."

Stephanie looked up, suddenly startled by his light blue eyes as he approached the table, making a grand spectacle of turning his cell phone off. Her surprise changed into irritation, but a chuckle softened her tone. "Like I said, you're an idiot."

Chris chose not to respond, loving the way Edge's (thankfully dry) hair whipped back and forth as he looked between them. He could almost see the hamster wheel inside the champ's head start to turn, his brain turning from flitting thoughts about conditioner and favorite colors to the harder job of scenario comprehension.

2.3 minutes later, Edge had a breakthrough, nearly suffering an aneurism in the process. "You've been talking to Jericho?" he said slowly, more of a statement than a question.

Stephanie shrugged, not seeing any particular reason to elaborate. Picking up her trusty clipboard, she ignored Edge (since she still seethed from the 'baby' nickname) and instead gave Chris a toothy smile. "Let me know about that cattle prod."

His mind jumped from Divas to his suggestive comment, and he stupidly grinned at her retreating back.

* * *

It is amazing how the slightest hint of a threat boils the blood of a man.

Edge always found the youngest McMahon attraction, since their curt introduction during his days in the Brood. Years later, when Team ECK was in its prime, Kurt talked nonstop about Stephanie; pointing out the finest features of both her mind and body. His constant chatter somehow spurned a sort of futile crush in the tall man, since Hunter's ring was still on her finger.

Like many of the wrestlers backstage, her divorce was a glorious event, signaling her re-entry into the land of dating. Kurt tried his luck with her and was firmly rebuffed; Edge, therefore, waited until she seemed more agreeable to dating.

In truth, he wasn't all that surprised that she accepted a few weeks ago. After all, they both were focused on career advancement and personal gain. She had a thing for blond hair, and he had a thing for any chick that breathed. It was a match made in heaven. So it came as a shock as he watched her talk and smile at his current arch nemesis, Chris Jericho.

What bothered him beyond HER talking was the fact that Chris was obviously pleased about the entire situation, as if he wanted the youngest McMahon in a romantic sense.

While he never liked Jericho to begin with (too damn cocky, all talk and no action; Edge despised those types), the other Canadian had an official reason to hate him: he was trying to steal his property. So it came to be that once Stephanie was out of range, Edge took it upon himself to get in Jericho's face. "If you know what's goof for you, you'll stop calling MY girl."

Chris didn't care for the invasion of his personal space. "Funny; we've talked aaaaaaallllll week, and not once was your name mentioned," Chris retorted, stroking his chin thoughtfully. "I'd think 'your girl' would at least talk about you if that were the case."

Edge steamed, his hands balling into fists. How he'd love to smash in Jericho's nose, just like the incident from last week. "You think you're so damn funny? We'll see how much you laugh after I spear the hell out of you later."

A gasp was emitted from the other man. "How did you know that your lame-ass move tickles? And here I thought you took it seriously!" Leaning closer, Chris squinted at Edge's exposed teeth. "I don't remember you having a gap between your front teeth…"

Edge kept his momentary panic attack inside, choosing only to growl and stalk off to find a mirror. His girlfriend was consorting with the enemy, AND his retainer was still missing. It was enough to give him premature wrinkles…. or make his hair fall out.

With that horrific thought, the tall blond fairly ran towards his locker room, eater to brush and slick back his 'beautiful' locks. That would soothe his frazzled nerves.

* * *

Allowing himself a good chuckle over Edge's horrified eyes, Chris turned back towards the locker room area. However, before he stopped at his, he made an important detour.

Ric Flair answered the door after only a few knocks, his white hair slightly askew. Inside, Chris could see hordes of groupies, clinging to Batista and Triple H and laughing their silly groupie laugh. The thought of girls getting on Flair, willingly surrounding him in his fog of Icy Hot and stroking his sagging skin, made Chris's stomach turned.

"What do you want, boy?" Flair asked loudly. "Ol' Naitch here is busy stylin' and profilin' for the ladies… woooooooooooooo!"

"I have a proposition for Batista, so send his ass out here," Chris stated, unafraid of the three Evolution members that were mere feet away from him.

Both men glanced at the dark-haired giant, literally dripping with women. "He's too busy for your silly propositions, boy. 'Sides, he ain't gonna side with you on Sunday. No, not ma boy Dave, he…"

"Would you please SHUT UP?!" Chris interrupted, lifting a hand to rub at his temples. "I don't care about Sunday; I care about tonight, and your 'boy' taking out Edge after our match."

The Nature Boy sniffed, rather unimpressed with the idea. "Dave musta knocked some screws loose in your head, boy. Why would he eva help you, his opponent this Sunday?"

With those fateful words, Chris pulled an envelope out from the waistband of his tights. "Ya boy betta think twice about refusing me, after he sees those," Chris said, mimicking Flair's drawl before thrusting the parcel in the old man's hands. Standing up straight, the Canadian then saluted the aged wrestler. "Good luck getting it up for those guttersnipes," he said, turning back towards his locker room.

"You betta watch out kid!" Ric warned loudly as he absently opened the envelope. Inside, he found two copies of photographs, which mainly depicted a large gray mouse and his Evolution teammate.

The Dirtiest Player in the Game was now in possession of a different kind of dirt.

"Aw shit!"

* * *

After that particular confrontation, Chris finally arrived at his locker room, eager to congratulate his newly returned friend on his dark match victory. Once through the door, he found a freshly showered Shelton chatting with Nidia, who was decked out in her ring attire. Chris rolled his eyes; Shelton had talked all week about making Nidia stay with them, 'to keep her protected', and it looked as if she had given in to his demand.

"Chris!" Nidia greeted, standing up from her seat. "You like my new outfit?" she immediately asked, twirling around before them.

Years of dating women who asked these weighted questions told him to actually appraise the outfit, and then flatter her, no matter what she looked like. Pretending to admire the baby doll… thing and black shorts, he tsked his tongue a bit. "Smokin'," he finally responded with mock enthusiasm. Glancing at Shelton, he noticed the young man's eyes feasting upon the twirling brunette, and stifled a laugh. "What do you think, Benj?"

Shelton, startled at the address, moved his gaze to his feet. "S'alright," he responded, slouching down in his folding chair.

Nonchalant responses like that usually have the adverse effect.

Nidia shrugged, pleased that the response were not negative. Chris, however, caught a hint of an idea; but first he'd have to interrogate his friend later.

"Well, I'd better find Vic and Stacy and discuss our match. I'll talk to ya later!" Giving them a big smile and a wave, Nidia strolled out of the locker room.

"Take care," Chris called absently after her, distracted by the last name she had listed. "Benj, you don't think Stacy is going to double cross her, do you?" he asked out loud, slightly worried about his newest friend. By now, the entire backstage had to know of their friendship, including the girl that Chris had rejected not that many weeks ago.

"How is Stephanie doing?" Shelton suddenly asked, eager to change the subject. Nidia had enough troubles with Trish and Tomko; he didn't want to think that she had to worry about Stacy too.

Chris blinked, and then shot a sly smile at his seated friend. "You have a thing for Nidia, don't you?"

"No I don't!" Shelton protested, a little too loudly, a little too vehemently.

"You were staring at her boobs…."

"You stare at everyone's boobs!"

"You made her come and hang out in here…"

"I was protecting her from your psycho ex!"

"And now you're worrying about Stacy, aren't ya?"

"Only because she's my friend too!" Shelton ground out in exasperation. This was getting old, fast.

Chris wasn't finished with him. Not in the slightest. "Yeah, a friend you'd like to bang," he corrected with a smirk.

"Whatever."

"You want to kiss those oh-so pouty lips…"

"Stop it."

"Ravish that hot body…"

"I said stop it!"

"Show her why it's all about the Benjamins…"

"Aaaaaargh!" Madder than hell, Shelton stood and stomped out the door, eager to get away from Jericho's childish teasing.

Mere seconds later, he darted back inside, someone yelling about a Headbangers reunion over the laughter in the hallway. Readjusting his towel (which had almost been tugged loose by a mischievous make-up lady), he gave Chris the meanest look he could muster before retreating into the bathroom with red-tipped ears.

_At least_, Chris thought to himself, _there is someone else who has women troubles around here_.

END CHAPTER THREE

* * *

Author's Notes: Hey all, that's chapter three for ya. You'd think I would have more to write about, seeing as I went to this past Raw on Monday… but to be honest, I forgot about how much crap goes on during the television shows (namely, the diva bullshit). At least I got to see Chris Jericho and Shelton win their matches :) Plus, I swear to God that Edge saw my sign (it said 'Edge Smells Like French Fries'); he definitely double-taked in my direction and I was sitting pretty close to the ring :D Take that Mr. You-Think-I'm-Greasy!

Alright, beyond all that, I hope you enjoyed the chapter (I wrote this one primarily at Job #1, which may explain some of its quirkiness). I've pushed the ball a bit, so y'all can have some real juicy romance in the near future – the question is, who is the lucky 'juicy romance' couple? :) :) You'll have to wait and see! Until then, I'd appreciate a review or an e-mail with your thoughts on this chapter. Thanks guys, and take care!

PS To Danielle – Your review for chapter one…. Very intriguing, indeed ;)


	4. The Plan

DISCLAIMER: I do not own Chris Jericho, Shelton Benjamin, or other wrestlers that appear in the following story. They are the property of the actors and actresses that portray them, as well as the WWE.

SPOILERS: Mention of events from 08-16-04 Raw.

* * *

Flowers Can't Keep Secrets

CHAPTER FOUR

Chris Jericho didn't know much, and never claimed to. He didn't know when he got his first bicycle, or which group officially started the heavy metal era, or what possessed him to grow that scary beard from months past.

But there was one thing he knew for sure: he was getting pretty bloody sick of getting his ass kicked by Batista.

He silently reiterated this fact to himself as he was helped out of the ring. Technically, he had picked up the win when Old Man Flair interfered; of course, the taste of victory against Evolution was a mouthful of blood.

Shelton, of course, was patiently waiting at his post backstage, ice-packs in hand. "Dude, I thought when Edge…" he started, trying to justify his lack of assistance.

Jericho cut him off with a wave, not wanting to tell Shelton that he probably deserved that beat-down. Ever since he had beat Tomko and put Trish in her place, he had been unable to pull himself out of the ditch she dug under him. It pissed him off that she had rendered him so worthless in the ring. "Shut it, Junior. I know you were flirting with Nidia," he stated, groaning as he placed a proffered ice pack on the back of his head. "Damn, I guess I can't count on Flair forgetting to wear his wing tips."

Shelton frowned in sympathy, having his own experiences with the pointy toed shoes. Placing a supportive arm around Chris's shoulders, he began to lead his battered friend back to their locker room (yes, after weeks of Shelton unofficially crashing Chris's space, Stephanie had thought it humorous to book them together at both the arena and at the hotel). "I wasn't flirting with Nidia, by the way."

"No flirting? Wasn't she in there with you watching my match?"

"Well yeah, but…"

"And you two were all alone?"

"So?"

"Jesus, Benj, you'll never get that girl's attention if you ignore her in an empty room, grunting at the TV like you do."

Shelton was sorely tempted to comment about Chris's slow progress with Stephanie, but thankfully held his tongue. A man who had suffered a beating in the ring certainly didn't need another low blow from a friend. "Why did those two pick on you tonight?" he asked, changing the subject.

Chris grimaced, recalling his stunt from last week. "Payback's a bitch," was all he said, telling himself to burn those pictures before he got into more trouble. Thankful to see their locker room door looming ahead, the blond man raised an eyebrow at his companion, who had slightly picked up the pace. "Nidia still in there?"

"Yeah…" Shelton rolled his eyes as Chris made a kissy face. "We still gotta warn her about Stacy; she told me they hung out last night after the show."

"Ooooh, did they have a sleepover? Maybe their painted their nails and did their hair and talked about boys!" With a squeal, Chris bit at his fingernails. "I wonder, oh my, did they talk about… you?"

"I fucking hate you, man," was all Shelton said as he stormed into the room, red-tipped ears visible to all those in the hallway.

A week-old crush and already Benji was a worrywart. Chris could hardly wait until they became official; the boy would probably become a Bam-Bam Bigelow to her Luna Vachon. Shuddering at that unpleasant thought, Jericho followed his friend inside.

Upon seeing Chris, Nidia jumped up from her folding chair. "Chris, I am so sorry…" she said, helping him into a chair. What she was sorry about, she wasn't sure; but she felt it was appropriate to say.

Jericho was just as curious. "Why? Christian was a weasel, and apparently so is his brother. Not much of a surprise, when you think about it."

The brunette chomped at her gum in contemplation. "You were friends with both of them, so what does that make ya?"

"A monkey's uncle?" Shelton chimed in from his seat on the bench.

Chris scowled, moving the ice pack from his head to his ribs. "Har dee har har. Some friends you guys are," he sulked, slouching in his chair and pouting a bit. First Evolution, and now his friends were double-teaming him; it was like a bad European porno.

"I guess I don't get why you started hating Edge, is all," Nidia backtracked, holding her hands up in defense. She was surprised at his petulant behavior, until she remembered how her ex Jamie had acted when he lost his title. _Must be a guy thing._

Chris sighed the guttural-est of sighs, disgusted that Nidia could not see the obvious flaws of the IC champ. "Isn't it obvious? He stole my girl AND refused my help to take down Evolution. He's a greasy bastard, and someday I'll take that title away and smack a few of those extra teeth out. Mr. You-think-you-know-me… yeah I know you, the newest face for Crisco."

Shelton and Nidia exchanged looks as Chris's rant faded into a mumble. Before one of them could ascertain if their friend had a concussion, Stephanie crashed their little party. "Chris," she panted, leaning against the doorframe to try and catch her breath.

The pout and the scowl was instantly gone. "Not now Steph, there are children in here," Chris admonished lightly, gesturing at his companions.

Deciding to ignore that comment, she dropped into the chair beside him. "I'm sorry about Edge… what?"

Chris continued to groan, holding his free hand over his face. "Everyone needs to stop being sorry ABOUT him, and start being sorry FOR him. After all, he's a buck-toothed, greasy, overzealous, insipid weasel."

"I sent him out there." The youngest McMahon dropped her gaze to Chris's abs, a lovely vision to enjoy if she wasn't feeling so guilty.

"To help Flair and Batista kick my ass? You shouldn't have!" Chris mock cooed, cracking open his fingers to peer at the brunette beside him. Instead of caring about her words, he studied her hair, which was falling out of her ponytail in a rather becoming fashion.

She wanted to protest, she hated being wrong, but there was no defense in this case. "You're right, I shouldn't have."

"So this means you'll go out with me tonight?"

There was no logic to the placement of this question, other than Chris was hoping to score some pity points. Hell, he'd take a pity date if that would persuade her to dump the weasel.

Stephanie pursued her lips, stealing a glance at his companions. After sizing up Nidia (who was giving her a thumbs-up sign behind Chris's head), she slowly shook her head. "I think you should rest."

"I'd rest a lot better if you were my bed nurse."

Okay, even Chris would admit to reaching with that one. He didn't want to be rejected again, and the only thing he hadn't tried was acting extremely pathetic (which, by the by, was one of his strongest attributes).

Steph, unfortunately, wasn't biting. After another long look at Nidia (which Jericho caught this time), she stood from her chair. "You mistook the part of my contract that stated that I 'service' the wrestlers," she joked weakly, tugging at a piece of hair that tickled her left ear. "I should get going."

And get going she did. Before anyone could blink, she was up and out the door.

Words dying away on his tongue, Chris's eyes flicked from the closing door to his best friend. "What was that about?"

Shelton gave Nidia a look before shrugging. "Don't ask me; I am not the expert on women here," he stated.

With that dismissal, Chris then turned to Nidia. "You're a chick; wanna explain that to me?"

Rubbing at the faded bruises on her neck, the girl nodded resolutely. "She's jealous," she responded simply, snapping her gum for effect.

"Of who?"

Nidia looked over at Shelton. "Of me, I guess."

Chris scoffed loudly. "But we're just friends!" _Women cannot be that overbearing, can they?_

Obviously, Chris had forgotten who he was referring to.

Nidia answered his outburst with one of her own. "Maybe she thinks that's what you guys are too," she yelled, shaking her index finger in the blond man's face. At his violent headshake, her eyebrows shot to her hairline as her eyes filled with fire. "Oh really? You don't think so, Chris? Then you must have TOLD her how you feel!"

Her anger startled Jericho, so much so that he looked away from her angry eyes in shame. Yes, he HAD shown an interest in her lately, with all of his phone calls, but he had never come out and said what had to be said. To be honest, he didn't think he had to; always believing that women were naturally perceptive to a man's changed intentions towards her.

Again, he forgot of who he spoke of, and her unsuccessful history with men.

Seeing Nidia about to blast him again, Chris gritted his teeth and pushed himself out of his chair. If she wanted him to say it, had been waiting for him to say it, then he would bloody say it, injured or not. Without even a look at his friends, the blond man clutched at his ribs and walked out the door.

Shelton immediately glared at Nidia the moment the door clicked shut. She waved off his glare upon sight. "Nuh-uh, Shelton, don't you start. I'm tired of playing this game, and that man needed a kick in the pants."

Inwardly, he conceded her point. Outwardly, he kept his steely gaze. "Steph's not gonna like this. It wasn't part of the plan."

"The plan, the plan, the plan," Nidia mocked, waving her hands about. "There was no huge plan when this whole thing started, and I think you have forgotten what I gave up when y'all jumped aboard." With a flick of her hair, she deftly spat her gum into a nearby garbage bin and stormed out of the locker room, intending on finding a punching bag and releasing her frustrations.

Shelton watched her go, his stony face giving little away to what he actually felt inside.

* * *

Stephanie McMahon, after much pleading with her estranged father, had gained a small victory this week. Despite the fact that she was still the backstage coordinator (see: glorified technician), no longer was she confined to work on a box beside the curtain. A small office had been set up for her in an available janitor's closet; minus the mops, the dirty sink, and various cleaning products, it was rather serviceable.

It didn't take too long for Chris to find it, despite its location on the unused side of the arena. Taking a page from her book, he burst into her office without knocking, catching her quite off guard. "I don't like her," he stated seriously.

Removing her reading glasses, Stephanie set down the work she hadn't been able to concentrate on and gave him a confused look. "You don't like who?"

"Nidia. I. Don't. Like. Her." Punctuating every word, Chris waited for her reaction.

Stephanie wanted to make a joke about not being friends with people you don't like, but she knew that wasn't appropriate at this time. Unlike Serious Stephanie, who always had to contend with Playful Jericho, Serious Jericho demanded only Serious Stephanie. No exceptions. "Fine, you don't like her. Can I get back to work now?" she conceded, picking up the papers she had just put down.

Chris's hand slammed onto her desk, the impact causing the nearby shelf of Lysol cans to rattle loudly. She wasn't getting it; he was going to have to say it. Problem was, he still didn't know what 'it' was. "Why would I call you every night and ask you out every Monday if you thought I liked her?" he demanded, praying to God she would fill in the blanks.

Her brow knotted together, but Chris witnessed the realization that bloomed in her blue eyes. _She knows now, _his mind whispered over and over, _she knows how you feel and you can't even bloody think it, much less say it._

Stephanie didn't know how to react, her mind still stumbling to wrap itself around his revelation. So she went with surprise. "I… but… she's your admirer, Chris. You're just going to give up on that?"

It was the stupidest thing she could have said, given her feelings for him; a verbal translation of her famed bitch slap.

Something shattered inside of Chris. He wanted to throw something, or ring Stephanie's neck, or scream and shout that she didn't feel that way; that she had to feel something for him. He was the King of the World, wanted to be the King of Her World, and yet she didn't want… him. His mixed emotions turned into disgust; he wanted to puke up the remains of his heart and his dignity on her table, but held himself back.

Little did he know that the chaos that was taking place inside of him was being projected on his face. And once she saw his pain, Stephanie understood her folly and sought to rectify it. "Chris, no, I…"

He didn't let her finish. He couldn't hear her voice and not think of the rejection that came from those pink lips not seconds earlier. So he fled her janitor closet, ran past the cafeteria, and sought the cool air of the parking lot.

Only then did he empty his stomach beside a dark blue Neon.

Inside her office, Stephanie pounded on her table in frustration until it buckled down the middle and fell to the floor.

This was definitely not part of the plan.

END CHAPTER FOUR

* * *

Author's notes: Dum da dum dum…. Drama! It feels so good to be shedding more light on the mystery; I guesstimate about 3-4 more chapters until the entire 'plan' is revealed. Story won't end there, though; way too many plans for this quartet :D

Borrowing a page out of Gin's book, I'd like to do something I've never done before: address you reviewers individually; for I honestly think it is the only proper way to thank you and make you realize how very very very happy your comments make me!

AhitsAnjel: I am glad I didn't disappoint ya with chapter three :). And OMG, I can't believe you saw my anti-Edge sign! How awesome is that.

Jetderk1462: Thank you for all the complements; I am glad you liked F4J and the sequel so far. The entire gag with the retainer is far from over, so beware! :)

Stratusskittles316: I was pretty pleased that Edge appeared to see my sign at Raw, he needed a reality check in my opinion ;) Now stop reading and go work on your Steph/Chris stories – I am looking out for them! :)

StephanieIrvine04: If I'm good Jodi, you are just as good if not better! :) I'm glad you like the Benji/Nidia tension; it's one of my favorite things to write.

TwistedSteel: So… you love Edge… ewwwwww! J/K!!! I am glad you like the story regardless of your favorite guy being the villain.

Funky in Fishnet: Dia's a cool nickname for Nidia, but I'll see what the Jericho muse cooks up for her (after all, he came up with Benji). Thanks for the complements! :)

Aussiewrestlingfan: Thanks for all the support Carolyn :) Sorry I missed your IM the other day (I was napping)! I've kept up on your message boards, and I promise that as soon as I have a spare moment (maybe some time next year), I'll get around to one of your challenges.

Daniella Consuela: It was a good thought! Glad you found the Edge hijinx funny; I didn't intentionally write him as a girl but hey, if the shoe fits… ;) As for the nickname, I totally agree that they need one; hopefully the Jericho muse can come through…

Kay: The flirting on the phone was only the beginning; I hope you like what happens next! Thanks for all the support! :)

Animezebra: The relationship between Chris and Shelton is the best part of writing this story; for some reason, they just mesh well in my mind. I'm glad you are enjoying the story :)

DCFanatic4life: I'd have to agree with you Nina, there is nothing better than Edge looking like a fool :) I tried to downplay the Edge-bashing a bit though, given all the drama that would happen alter. I'm interested in seeing your reaction to this chapter!

Disco Inferno1: Glad to see that you hate the diva wannabes as much as me Gin :D As for Shelton and Nidia hooking up, well… he's gonna need a kick in the pants, but I doubt Nidia can do it for him… Thank you for all your support and awesome e-mails! :)

Silenttearz03: I am glad you love the story :) Oh, and Edge will still be looking for that retainer for awhile…

Sistergrim: Your review made me smile; I love writing Chris and Steph like that, all playful and sarcastic. Glad you liked F4J; I can't promise anything for this one but I'll try my best! :)

Cold-Zephyr: Another fan of Benji and Nidia! Perhaps they'll be the new 'It' couple lol. Anyways, thanks for all your support; in the meantime, why don't you go write another awesome Bret Hart fic ;)

Whew…. so now you see how much your reviews mean to me. So I hope you'll review and let me know what you think of this chapter. See you next week!


	5. Jack

DISCLAIMER: I do not own Chris Jericho, Edge, or other wrestlers that appear in the following story. They are the property of the actors and actresses that portray them, as well as the WWE.

SPOILERS: Mention of events from 08-23-04 Raw.

* * *

Flowers Can't Keep Secrets

CHAPTER FIVE

As most girls know, a kick to the groin is quite an effective takedown, if not a little diabolical in nature for its simplicity.

Therefore, by using this logic, Chris Jericho proved that Edge was a weasely girl. And he didn't even factor in his hair, a feat within itself.

Chris had worn a jock strap (the Canadian maple leaf one, in fact), as was customary of all professional wrestlers, but the device does not deter the jarring of a ring rope up the ass. So with minor swelling, he reclined on a bench in his locker room and did what was necessary: got drunk.

After all, anyone who wrestled Triple H often knew to carry some sort of booze in their gym bags. The man was obsessed with crotch shots.

Taking another swig of whiskey, the blond kept his eyes trained on his door. It was only a matter of time until someone checked up on him. Both Shelton and Nidia had kept their distance for an entire week after finding him by the dark blue Neon; Chris suspected that they had heard about his rejection from Stephanie, although why Stephanie would bother to tell them anything was beyond him.

Actually, a lot of things were beyond him at this moment, and that was thanks to his new best friend, Jack Daniels.

Unfortunately, being alone and tipsy long enough forces you to think, no matter how much one's groin hurts. And all Chris could think about was Steph. He hadn't talked to her in days, but not from her lack of trying; she had called him numerous times on Tuesday and Wednesday. She left messages that Chris didn't bother to listen to, just deleted as soon as her voice filled the speaker. He didn't want to hear her excuses or her apologies, now that he knew where her true feelings lay.

Something, however, was changing his mind.

The match tonight had actually been Edge's idea. Chris suspected it had something to do with the incident two weeks ago. What surprised him more was what Edge kept growling during the match.

Now, while a wrestler's vocabulary is usually restricted to expletives and brutal threats, Edge was constantly mumbling to Jericho about Stephanie. That 'she was his', or 'stay away from her', or 'where's my damn retainer'.

Right before Edge introduced Chris's balls to the top rope, he said something strikingly different: "I want her back!"

Being the master of assumptions, Chris took his statement to mean that Steph had finally broken it off with the King of Crisco. But he didn't want to put it past Edge to think of his retainer as female, giving it some sort of silly name (perhaps Myrtle or Sue).

Myrtle or Sue still sat in his gym bag, next to the two bottles of Listerine.

Stephanie's dismissal last week, however, still weighted heavily on his mind. So even if his assumption about her was correct, he didn't allow himself to get excited over it. The whiskey helped with that; kept him from losing his mind in the realm of possibilities.

Of course, Shelton DID say something about Chris misinterpreting Steph's words by the blue Neon. But the Canadian refused to buy into it; chalking it up to Benji's infernal optimism.

Ugh, rookies.

Chris Jericho knew a dis. One didn't become a ladies' man until after years of being a ladies' fool.

Shaking his head from side to side, Chris tried to physically jar the memories of Steph's rejection from mind. Thankfully, his solitude was interrupted by a cautious knock. "Chris?" Nidia called cautiously through the door.

He sighed. _The only time she knocks, and I sound like Peter Brady_. "Yeah what," he grumbled, dragging his voice deep from his belly.

She took that as permission to enter, coming to stand before him in a gray velour sweatsuit. Sticking her nose in the air, she sniffed experimentally once, twice. "Booze? Whiskey?"

Chris nodded, slightly impressed. "Nidia, meet Jack. Jack, Nidia." He tilted the half-guzzled container of Listerine (for easy smuggling through airports) at the brunette before him. "Join me?"

"Don't mind if I do," she responded, getting rid of her gum. Lowering herself to sit Indian-style on the floor, Nidia gave him a curious look. "No ice?"

"Hard up, baby." Chris took another swig, then handed off the bottle. "Just how I like my women."

She flushed a bit, her left hand gripping the proffered booze. "No, for your…" she trailed off, waving a hand towards his nether regions.

Chris winced at the thought. "Guys are too sensitive. Too much ice can cause permanent damage, ya know," he explained, sounding just like the six grade classmate who told him that valuable information.

She winced. "Wouldn't want that," she affirmed before throwing her head back and taking a large swig of the whiskey all those years ago.

Jericho chuckled as she coughed violently, the alcohol burning a path to her stomach. "So why are you drinking?"

Another large sip passed her lips; this time, she managed to hold her expression to a painful grimace. "You drink by yourself, you're an alcoholic. I'm just saving you the embarrassment."

He liked that answer, taking the bottle back for a sip. The room was just starting to fuzz around the edges; and upon further examination, Nidia was becoming more and more attractive. Was her skin always that radiant? Did her smile always make him feel warm inside? He couldn't remember; a sure sign of the whiskey's potency. "You aren't gonna try an' jump me when you're all wasted, are you?" Chris half-joked, half-worried out loud. After all, she DID send him all of those sappy notes…

Her cheeks pinked as she looked away, blindly grabbing for the whiskey. "We're just friends now."

Chris arched an eyebrow. "That so? You sounded pretty hung up on me back in the day."

Nidia didn't respond, currently preoccupied with draining the last quarter of whiskey from the bottle. Once her feat was accomplished, she wiped a stray drop from her chin and giggled at her open-mouthed friend. "Well, now what?" she asked, tossing the bottle aside.

Chris had never seen a girl drink hard liquor like that before. He didn't know whether to tease her or fear her incredible guzzling skills; instead, he reached into his nearby gym bag and pulled out another full bottle of Listerine. "Good thing I packed for lushes like you."

* * *

Twenty minutes later, it was safe to say that both parties were sloshed (despite her guzzling feat earlier, Nidia was far from being a professional drinker). So it was no surprise that their loud talking and laughter attracted the attention of someone outside.

The surprise was in who.

Panting and laughing to himself simultaneously, Randy Orton ducked into the first noisy locker room he found, knowing that Evolution wouldn't dare take on a crowd of wrestlers.

He wasn't banking on all that noise coming from the two drunken people who were sprawled on the benches.

Squinting at the intruder, Chris handed the bottle of Listerine to Nidia before standing up. "You lookin' for a fight, Randall?" he stuttered, wobbling heavily on one foot (for he had forgotten that he had two).

Cursing his luck, and unable to dart back out in the hallway, the heavyweight champ smirked at the smashed Canadian. "And people actually admire you for being the first Undisputed Champion?"

Chris crossed his arms, attempting his best glare. "Least I didn't give back my title to my 'leader' like some little bitch."

With a sigh, Randy held the belt closer to Chris's face, waiting to speak until the blond man's eyes could focus on the gold. "Maybe if you weren't drinking yourself silly, you would have seen me spit in Hunter's face."

While the blond Canadian gave him a confused look, Nidia used her friend as a crutch, pulling herself to her feet. Holding up the bottle of Listerine, she offered Randy a huge grin. "Now that deserves a drink, Champ," she slurred.

* * *

Forty-five minutes after that, Stephanie McMahon was leaving the arena when she heard loud singing coming from an adjacent hallway. Surprised, she went to investigate, and soon found herself outside of Chris Jericho's locker room door. Deciding to forgo her usual entrance, she carefully cracked open the door and poked her head inside.

For years to come, Steph would be happy she investigated the noise that night, for she would be the sole witness to quite a debacle.

Standing on a bench, with one of his sparkly shirts tied around his head, Chris was singing 'Shot to the Heart' at the top of his lungs. On the floor before him lay Nidia, who was waving around a bottle of Listerine and chiming in when she could. And next to Nidia, with his head tilted back on the bench, was a passed-out Randy Orton.

"Shot through the heart, and you're to blame," Chris bellowed loudly. Stephanie could smell the hiskey on his breath, and realized what was in those Listerine bottles.

"You give looooooove a bad name," he and Nidia finished together. Then, Chris went into some vicious air guitar, while the brunette on the floor bobbed her head along in time.

Steph would have watched it all night, but she saw her opportunity to make peace with Chris, hoping that in his current state he would at least listen to her. So she cleared her throat loudly, rapped at the open door a few times, and officially entered the room. "You know, the WWE is a dry organization," she deadpanned.

Chris froze in mid-strum, staring at the intruder. This loss of momentum would lead to him falling off the bench and jarring his sore groin. "Son of a bitch," he hissed. "My balls are never going to recover."

Without a word, Nidia capped the bottle and slid it over to him. She then turned her attention back to Steph. "What up chica?" she greeted. And before Steph could reply, she had already passed out.

"Well, that's two people I'm gonna have to drag out of here," the backstage coordinator grumbled to herself. Walking around the bench, she looked down at Chris (who was still lying on his back, moaning in pain). "What's Orton doing in here anyway?"

Jericho's brow scrunched up as the neurons in his brain misfired; he knew the answer to this, it was on the tip of his tongue. Or at least, he did know a half-hour ago. His tongue was currently coated in whiskey, and really of no help. "What are _you_ doing in here anyway?" he retorted weakly.

She squatted down beside him, then pinched her nose at the cloud of whiskey that she had unknowingly entered. "God, you stink. How long have you been drinking?"

"Like you care." Part of his brain was starting to panic, for he didn't want to be this drunk and have her around. He already made a fool of himself last week in front of her, the last thing he desired was a repeat performance. He wasn't even sure she was real right now; cracking open that third bottle of whiskey wasn't the best of ideas.

Steph delivered the third surprise of his night when she bent over and placed a kiss on his forehead, despite the stench and his inebriated state. She laughed at his shocked look when she pulled back. "I do care, you idiot. I've been trying to tell you that all week."

Chris blinked a few times. "You kissed me," he whispered. Still wondering if she was real or not, he closed his eyes and passed out.

Unfortunately for Stephanie, the three passed-out wrestlers in the room were far from a hallucination.

END CHAPTER FIVE

* * *

Author's Notes: Well, that's a strange chapter, if I do say so myself. Oh well, if it made you chuckle, then I succeeded. The addition of Randy Orton was just to irritate my brother, who said I would probably include him in the story now that he was a face. So there Charlie... I guess you know me too well :P As for Orton's permanence… we'll see. He takes away from my Edge-bashing time :D

Many thanks to all of my reviewers for the last chapter. I'd detail out my love to each and every one of you, but I'm exhausted and need to hit the hay. I hope you'll excuse the lateness (and rather eccentric) of this chapter. Please review and tell me what you think! Thanks guys, take care and I'll see ya next week :)


	6. Revelations 1

DISCLAIMER: I do not own Chris Jericho, Shelton Benjamin, or other wrestlers that appear in the following story. They are the property of the actors and actresses that portray them, as well as the WWE.

SPOILERS: Mention of events from 08-30-04 Raw.

* * *

Flowers Can't Keep Secrets

CHAPTER SIX

When one is the King of the World, it can get pretty lonely at the top.

Chris hadn't talked to Shelton in over two weeks now; if he were being truthful to himself, he would (begrudgingly) admit that the young man had become his best friend. Sure, Nidia called a few times, and chatting with her on the phone was amusing, but there was only so much friendship a heterosexual guy could derive from a female. At the time being, Nidia and him were close enough for his comfort, and he liked that way; the only veritable solution to his close friend problem was to mend the fences between him and Benji.

Problem was, he wasn't sure what Shelton was mad about. He was pretty sure they were on good terms before the Stephanie dismissal… so it had to be about him getting drunk with Nidia. And if that was the case, Shelton was overreacting about something completely stupid; the young man knew that the blond Canadian held a torch for Stephanie alone.

Thus, as Chris stomped through the arena on Monday night, he mentally formulated how he would set Shelton straight. First he would demand to know why he was acting like a little bitch, then Chris would calmly explain what happened last week, and then finally Chris would hold out on his forgiveness, just to make Benji sweat a little.

After all, the King of the World, despite being lonely, just doesn't give out his royal pardons.

Knowing that it would be a waste of time to look anywhere else, Jericho turned towards his dressing room. A few steps away, he caught the sounds of people yelling; a foot closer and he determined that the voices were indeed coming from the door marked 'Y2J Chris Jericho'. With a groan, Chris readjusted his gym bag and reached for the handle.

"Just tell us what happened last week!" Shelton's voice floated through the door.

"I already told you what happened…"

"I know what you told us; what I want to know is what you said to Chris," Stephanie interrupted Nidia.

Jericho's hand froze in its spot as he recognized the angry voices coming from within. What they were so angry about was beyond him, but he decided to stay put in the hallway, hoping for some inkling as to the issue at hand (especially since it involved him).

"Steph, trust me, I know what I said up until I passed out!"

"'Up until I passed out'," Stephanie mocked. "That's a credible statement if I ever heard one."

"Even if I would have said something, I wouldn't have said it in front of Randy," Nidia defended, sounding close to tears. Chris's hand itched to open the door; part of him felt bad for the verbal abuse she was receiving from the other two occupants. But the other part of him was dying to know what the 'something' they were hinting at was.

"I still don't get why Orton was hanging out with you guys anyway," Shelton commented, his voice laced with jealously. "It's not like you are all friends."

"Chris and I were buzzed when he showed up, and well… the more the merrier." Nidia's voice was getting scratchier and louder by the second. "It's not a big deal."

"This is a big deal Nidia; we're talking about…"

"I know, we're talking about the god damn plan!" Nidia finished for Stephanie. "For the last time, I didn't say anything about you and your flowers, so would you just BACK OFF!!!" she shouted.

Chris blinked. _You and the flowers…Stephanie and the flowers?!_ His gym bag hit the floor, but he didn't even notice. Pulling his rampant thoughts together, Chris barged into the locker room, nearly colliding with Shelton. His eyes immediately locked on the two women in the center of the room: a red-faced Stephanie and a watery-eyed Nidia. "What did you just say?" he asked quietly.

Her mouth alternately opening and closing, Stephanie did her best impression of a small-mouth bass. Or large-mouth, depending on your personal feelings for the youngest McMahon. "Jericho! You're early!" she managed to stutter out.

Nidia, sensing a sort of reprieve, rushed over to the newly-arrived blond and threw herself in his arms. Chris awkwardly patted her on the back as she buried her face in his t-shirt. "Please don't hate me," she whispered.

"Nidia," Shelton hissed. Chris immediately sent him a warning glare, and the young man shut up; his dark eyes, however, were swirling with anger and hurt.

Tipping up her chin, Chris gave her the best smile he could muster in his confused-yet-pondering-anger state. "Now why would I go and hate you, doll face?" he questioned.

The brunette in his arms took a deep breath, snuck a quick peek at Stephanie (whose mouth had shut into a thin line), and then stared into Jericho's sky blue eyes. "Chris….. there is something you should know about the flowers."

"Nidia, don't!" Stephanie cried, but the other woman paid her no attention.

"I only sent you the first three bouquets."

Chris let out a breath he didn't even know he was holding. _She stopped with the marigolds? The ones Stephanie found? _His eyes flicked to her at that thought; and he was surprised to see the guilty look spreading across her face. "Oh," he said.

Oh.

OH.

OH!

It was so simple; he couldn't believe that the truth had eluded him for so long. The change in note styles, the numbers and different types of flowers, even the delay in the first meeting – someone else had taken over the admirer job.

Someone else who had easy access to the backstage. Someone else who knew about the previous bouquets and their affect on him. Someone else who would always refuse to help in schemes to bring out the admirer. Someone else who gave him a flower dictionary.

Stephanie.

Without really knowing what to think, or what to say, Chris gently pushed Nidia away from him. His gaze remained on Stephanie and her guilty eyes. "Why?" he asked, his voice trembling.

A one-syllable question never carried so much weight. His whole reaction depended on what Stephanie would say next.

The youngest McMahon, however, was having a hell of a time trying to breathe. Never in her wildest dreams did she believe that Chris Jericho would ever find out the truth about his secret admirer (now admirers, since it was out in the open). She briefly contemplated sticking it to Shelton, but knew that the easiest route would be for her to come clean. "It made you happy," she stated.

Chris gave her a crazed look; had she _forgotten _the trauma he went through, trying to figure out why and how and who was doing this? "No it didn't," he bit out.

"Yeah it did," Shelton piped up behind him.

Stephanie nodded. "When I saw you cradle those marigolds, I knew that the flowers meant more to you than you let on. So we decided to fill in, until we could find out who the original admirer was."

"We." Chris looked over his shoulder at Shelton, the man he had called his best friend. "You were in on this?"

The young man didn't know how to respond to the hurt in Chris's eyes, so he merely shrugged. "I made sure the bouquets got in, yeah."

"Did you ever plan on telling me?"

Nobody would meet his eyes after that question. Chris felt his blood start to boil. This wasn't a betrayal, per se; it was the destruction of trust. He had trusted Shelton to be his friend, and found out that the young man had distracted him at times in order for Stephanie to sneak in filler bouquets and cards until they could find the real thing.

Stephanie… he had fallen for Stephanie while she was executing one of her infamous plans.

It was sick, to say the least. But there were still questions to ask, and he didn't want an audience to influence her answers. "Nidia, Shelton, could you leave us alone for a second please?"

Unbeknownst to him, the young man flinched at the sound of his real name coming from Jericho's lips. The coldness of the blond man's voice weighed heavily on his heart as Shelton held the door open for Nidia, both of them exiting the tense locker room.

Once outside, Nidia wound her arm through Shelton's, giving him a half-assed smile when he looked at her in surprise. "It was time," she stated simply, trying to convince herself of that very fact.

"She better come all the way clean," was all Shelton could think to say.

* * *

Inside the locker room, Chris moved to stand before Stephanie. "Was caring about me part of the plan?" he demanded to know.

She furrowed her brow at his words. "You're kidding, right?"

"Oh right, I'm kidding, this is all just shits and giggles for me," he retorted sarcastically. "I'm talking about last week."

"Last week…" Her eyes cleared as she remembered her off-handed revelation. "Oh. You remember that?" she asked stupidly, honestly surprised that after all that whiskey, he was still coherent enough to remember their conversation.

"Of course I remember that. I bloody passed out from shock." He ran a hand through his blond hair in frustration. "I can't tell if you were genuine or if you were faking concern for me."

That irked her a bit. "My feelings for you were never part of some plan," she spit out.

"Don't get all high and mighty with me, McMahon. You're the one who was puppeteering behind the scenes."

"I did it to make you happy!" she argued. "And somehow along the line, I fell for you, believe me though, I did everything possible to try and get rid of it."

"Like dating Edge?" Chris pressed. She flushed, and he had the urge to ring her neck. "If you liked me, then why the hell did you date him?"

"I didn't date him. I wanted to make sure that I wasn't falling for you for the wrong reasons."

Stephanie knew this was pretty weak, but she'd never delve into her real reasons.

"Oh really? So you used Edge so that you wouldn't pity me." The blond man shook his head. "Not very convincing. I think you were screwing us both."

Stephanie's eyes narrowed into a glare. "Excuse me?"

"Edge got all the perks," he retorted, glaring back.

"You're unbelievable," she said, shaking her head in disbelief. "I told you repeatedly…"

"It doesn't matter what you said," Chris interrupted, utterly revolted that he stole the Rock's catchphrase. "Anything you've said, anything you say now; it's all garbage. You lied to me."

She shook her head vehemently. "I didn't lie to you; I hid the truth."

"And how is that any better?" he shouted, weary of the convoluted logic to come. Women, as he had come to learn, were full of this backward way of thinking.

"Because you would only get hurt if you found out!" she responded weakly, not willing to change her stance on the subject.

Unable to look into her guilty blue eyes any longer, Chris turned his back on her. "That's where you failed, Steph. I found out," he sighed, gesturing towards the door. "Go back to your precious job."

He could feel her stare boring holes into his back, but he refused to turn around. "That's it? After all this, you're going to send me away like a child?" Pissed as all hell, she picked up her clipboard, threw it at the wall, and stomped towards the exit. "I don't know why I even bothered," she mumbled loudly before leaving.

_Neither do I,_ Chris thought sadly. He turned his gaze towards the closed door for a few seconds, ensuring that the brunette would not come back in, before ambling over towards the mess by the wall.

After smashing into the concrete bricks, the clipboard had snapped in two, letting sheets of paperwork scatter onto the floor. Bending at the waist, he picked up the two pieces and immediately brushed an indentation in the wood with his thumb. Bringing the clipboard closer to his face, Chris found a heart carved into the bottom right corner, with three letters inside.

"F four j," he read aloud.

_F 4 J…_

_Flowers for __Jericho_.

END CHAPTER SIX

* * *

Author's notes: I'm so very sorry for the length; I tried my hardest to add another page but it didn't feel right. Work has been so incredibly draining these days, and I wanted to get out that last chapter of Façade before I started this. So I apologize for how long it took to post, all the grammar/spelling errors that I am too tired to check for, and how short it ended up being; hopefully though, the content makes up for my shortcomings. Please review and let me know what you think – I'd appreciate a positive boost this week. Until next chapter, take care.


	7. Tongue Tied

DISCLAIMER: I do not own Chris Jericho, Randy Orton, or other wrestlers that appear in the following story. They are the property of the actors and actresses that portray them, as well as the WWE.

SPOILERS: None, for once.

DEDICATION: This chapter is dedicated to Nina and Jodi, because I have a feeling that out of everyone who reads this, they will be the most excited about certain events. Enjoy, girls :D

* * *

Flowers Can't Keep Secrets

CHAPTER SEVEN

If there is such a thing as a drama queen, Chris Jericho's behavior last week was that befitting of a drama king.  
  
Luckily, he had come to his senses all by himself. And it had nothing to do with the seven angry phone calls from Nidia (which had the central theme of 'what is your problem, stupid?').

Chris no longer had a problem; in its place, though, was his final plan at winning over Stephanie McMahon. Ironically, this plan borrowed a bit from one of its predecessors.  
  
Arriving at his locker room, Randy Orton immediately became suspicious by the slightly ajar door. The probability that one or more of his former teammates were ready to ambush him inside was rather high, which left him with the options of turning tail or confronting the intruder(s).  
  
Like Chris Jericho had noted time and time again, these rookies were just too cocky for their own good.  
  
Balling his fists, Randy reached out with his long leg and kicked open the door, the corner of which catching Jericho in the nose and sending him flying from his crouched position. Skidding a few feet on his behind, the blond man immediately grabbed at the wounded appendage. "Wa da hell!" he yelled, pinching the nostrils shut and bemoaning yet another injury to his beautiful face.  
  
Standing in the now fully open doorway, the heavyweight champion gave his wounded intruder a curious look. "Jericho?"  
  
"Dumass wookie," Chris grumbled, leaning his head back. He winced as the coppery taste of blood slid down his throat. "Why dond you wadge where you goin."  
  
Even Peter Cook would have laughed at the King of the World's nasally accent.  
  
Shaking his head, Randy entered his locker room, stepping over the crouched man to place his things on the leather couch. "Well that's what you get for planning on jumping me."  
  
Chris snorted; forgetting that his nose was pinched, however, he ended up choking on his own blood and saliva. "Spare me, Randalf," he coughed, letting go of his nose and checking the blood situation. "I've got better things to do than jump you like some hormone-crazy groupie."  
  
Randy shrugged, unpacking his wrestling gear from his bag. "Hey, I can't help if you gave up the ladies for Stephanie."  
  
The Canadian hmphed, and after ensuring that his nose was both blood-free and still gorgeous, returned to his position by the open door, praying that he hadn't miss her. He then suddenly wondered how Randy knew that little bit of information, and concluded that it had to have been during the great whiskey binge of two weeks' past. "Listen Randalf, about Stephanie..." he began, unsure of how much the young man knew of his feelings or the entire situation.  
  
"Jericho," Randy interrupted coldly, ignoring the nickname. "If you're going to get all mushy, would you go hide somewhere else? I'm already feeling sick to my stomach."  
  
"I've felt the same way since you won that title," Chris grumbled. To be honest, he was a bit taken aback at the young man's attitude. First the kid drank his booze and hung out with him, and now he was too superior to hear about Chris's problems. _Ugh, rookies_.  
  
Randy did not to reply to Chris's barb, focusing instead on his plans for the evening. However, the intruder kneeling in his locker room was quite the potent distraction, and the young man had been missing casual conversations since his resignation (see: ass-kicking) from Evolution. So with an exaggerated sigh, the champion eased himself into a folding chair and pasted on an irritated glare. "So why are you hiding in here?"  
  
Chris started at his companion's voice, having fully expected the brat to ignore him for the remainder of his tenure on the floor. "I thought I was making you sick to your widdle tummy?" he said snottily.

"You know what? Forget it." Thoroughly annoyed at the intrusive Canadian, Randy crossed his arms and wished to be left alone, for then he wouldn't be reminded of his current friendless state.

The young man's wish was answered when Stephanie McMahon entered her janitor closet/office just across the hall. With a whoop of excitement, Chris straightened up, ran a hand through his loose blond hair, and opened the locker room door. "Well Randalf, I'd like to say that this has been fun, but you've turned into a stiff. Later." With a casual wave, Chris darted into the hallway.

Randy sneered at the closing door. Oh sure, it was easy for Jericho to call him a stiff, considering that the blond man was spending the majority of his time chasing a woman and losing his matches against sub-par wrestlers (Edge, Tomko). He had better things to do than to worry about what people thought of him, like worry about Triple H.

Still though, his mind kept bringing up one word: _Randalf?_

* * *

Stephanie McMahon was in a foul mood. She had been for a week now, starting after the moment that Chris Jericho ordered her out of his locker room.

_The nerve of that man!_ She thought to herself yet again as she wandered through the hallways of the arena, looking for her office set-up. He didn't realize the trouble she went through in order to keep up the admirer façade: sending out Stuart to get the flowers every week and swearing him to secrecy, writing those poignant notes (although she had to admit that the task got easier as time went on), and of course, using all of her resources to find the identity of the real admirer. And what did she get in return? Did she get the thanks that she rightfully deserved?

He didn't even bother to hear her full side of the story. No, he was going to blindly hate her for her supposed 'betrayal' and she couldn't do a thing about it. And her submission to that fact made her blood boil.

Therefore, it was safe to say that she wasn't prepared to find what she did in her office.

Two dozen roses sat in the middle of her desk. Her breath caught in her chest as she reached out to stroke the petals. They were the most beautiful white roses she had ever seen, the white fading into red at the tips of the bloom. Perusing the bouquet for a note, she then caught sight of her broken clipboard sitting next to the vase. Stephanie picked up the repaired item, reading the card attached to the clasp.

_Turn around._

Her head whipped around, and her eyes met Chris's. It was about then that her heart stopped beating.

"Hi," he greeted quietly.

Steph's brow furrowed at the not-so romantic greeting. She wanted to ask what this all meant, but her question came out as "What's this all about?"

Chris ignored her question. "Did you know that flowers have secret meanings?" he casually asked, crossing his arms and leaning back against the door.

She felt her face getting hot. "Of course I did," she answered, fixing him with a steely gaze.

"I didn't figure it out until this weekend," he admitted. It was the truth, too; when he was searching for the perfect flowers to give her in the flower dictionary, he had stumbled across the section on Victorian meanings and more pieces of the puzzle fell into place. Reaching into the waistband of his tights, he pulled out a sheet of paper and began to read from it. "So, you think my eyes are beautiful?"

Stephanie's face was now as red as a tomato as she recalled the meaning of the variegated tulips. "Maybe I do and maybe I don't," she stated defiantly.

Chris chuckled, enjoying her embarrassment. "The tiger lilies dared me to love you. The jonquils wanted me to return your affection. The pink roses stood for a secret love, and the orange roses stood for desire," he read aloud. "Very interesting, wouldn't you say?"

Unable to continue facing him, she turned to place her clipboard back on the desk. She had hoped he would figure out the secret messages… but this was humiliating. "Quite," she managed to say as her eyes caught sight of the roses again. _Do these mean something?_ She suddenly wondered, excited by the prospect. From what she could remember, all roses (excluding yellow) had some sort of romantic meaning.

"Of course, you could have been picking these for Nidia's benefit," Chris commented, his smirk widening as her head whipped around. "But then again, there were those chrysanthemums…" he trailed off, liking the way her eyes widened in shock. "I never really got why you had the two bundles of rosemary in that bouquet until now."

She opened and closed her mouth a few times, beyond surprised that he had figured out the obscure clue with that bouquet. But rather than admitting her admiration for the feat, she gathered her remaining resolve and rolled her eyes. "Took you long enough," she snorted in derision.

"White chrysanthemums stand for truth. Rosemary stands for remembrance, and only someone who cared would remember your middle name is Marie. Rosemary. Marie. Very clever, if I do say so myself."

"You're damn right it's clever," she stated with a smirk. "But you haven't said a word about the pink carnations. Don't tell me they stumped you?"

Chris's smile faded. Out of all the flowers he had received from her, the carnations made the least amount of sense. Their meaning (quite literally 'I'll never forget you') just did not fit into the timeline. His mind struggled to find a logical reason to tell her, but he kept drawing a blank.

Stephanie laughed at his frown, and decided to give him a break. "Those weren't supposed to have a specific meaning, Chris. When it became obvious that you weren't getting a bouquet from your admirer, I yanked them from catering and put them in your locker room.

"Looks like the shit you see in cafeterias," Chris said, repeating Shelton's exact words when he saw the bouquet. More puzzle pieces.

Steph frowned. "They weren't that bad," she retorted, her exact words to Shelton when he had called her later that evening and called the flowers 'janky'.

Deciding he was growing bored of the conversation, Chris tossed the paper aside and pushed himself away from the door. "So now what?" he crooned, walking slowly towards her.

His darkened look awakened the butterflies in her stomach. "Well, I have work to do," she stated, sticking up her chin defiantly. If he just expected her to fall into his arms, he had another thing coming.

"Screw work." Leaning close to her, he reached behind her to turn off her headset before sliding the headphones down to circle her neck.

She suppressed a shiver, and fixed him with the coldest gaze possible. Did he know that his touch was driving her crazy? "What do you think you're doing?"

"Do you have cold sores?" he asked.

Her blood boiled. "Just what are you insinuating!" she bellowed, trying to move and realizing that he had her pinned against the desk.

Chris smirked at her reddened face and angry eyes. _Perfect,_ he thought to himself as he brought her face closer and kissed her angry, slightly agape mouth.

Stephanie's arms flailed for only a second before she grabbed his head and returned the kiss, a kiss would be the second best one they had shared to date (the first being the kiss at Summerslam, where Stephanie's tongue participated way too much for a supposedly startled woman).

* * *

Two hallways over, Shelton Benjamin and Nidia were chilling out in Jericho's locker room, talking about how they would reunite their other friends (who, ironically, were already united at the mouth).

"What about if you start hitting on Steph? It'll make Chris jealous," Nidia suggested.

Shelton rolled his eyes. "Send him off the deep end, you mean. I don't need to be back on the injured list."

"We could get them drunk together and lock them in a closet or something."

"Because that's a great way to start a relationship: random gropes in a dark enclosed area."

Nidia stomped her foot. "Shooting me down isn't going to help the situation Chico, so why don't you try and be helpful."

The young man groaned, wondering when it became necessary for friends to interfere in love lives. Was he so old-fashioned in believing that fate would take its course; that overdramatic plans, horrible lies, and silly schemes would only delay the inevitable?

Obviously, Shelton Benjamin had never paid much attention to the drama that envelops the WWE. Or perused the fan fiction sites on the Internet, for that matter.

Chewing on her thumb nail, his companion started pacing the room. "I just can't sit idly by and have them miss their chance to be together, Shel. Is that so wrong?"

Unbeknownst to Nidia, her words hit Shelton in a different way. He desperately wanted to say something to her that would key her in to his attraction, but he was too chicken-shit. He had never taken failure well, and her rejection could very well provoke him to smash his newly-healed hand back into a wall. With a guttural sigh, he pushed himself up out of his chair. "I guess not, but let's not mess with Chris, okay? He's gone through enough with that other bitch."

Nidia paused, considering his words. "I suppose you got a point; but Stephanie can smell a scheme a mile away." Suddenly a thought occurred to her, and she snapped her fingers joyfully. "I bet Randy will have an idea!"

"Randy Orton?" Shelton repeated, confusion etching his features.

She snapped her gum as she rushed over to the mirror on the wall. "That would be him," she replied, running her fingers through her hair and checking her makeup for any problems.

Shelton frowned at her answer and her obvious primping. "And why would that chump be of any help?"

Nidia glared at his reflection in the mirror before returning to her appraisal. "Duh, when we were drinkin' Chris told him all about his thing for Stephanie. And a hottie like Randy will probably have some ideas on how to hook people up," she explained, giggling a bit when she paid the champion a complement. "Goodness knows he gives ME ideas when I look at him!"

Shelton slowly sat back down in his chair, keeping quiet as Nidia finished fixing her hair and breezed out of the room. He could nearly taste the irony of the situation; she had spoken of missed chances, and now it was fairly obvious that he had, indeed, missed his with her. Letting his head fall into his hands, he idly wondered if this was his karma-like punishment for messing with Chris and the admirer business in the first place.

* * *

"You know, I'm still going to call you a trash-bag ho."

"And you'll always be an asshole."

"As long as we have that settled…" Chris trailed off, placing a few light kisses on the corners of her mouth. Already he was addicted to her taste of her. "So what now?"

"Dinner after the show?" Steph suggested, running her fingers through his shiny hair and wondering how she ever dealt with Edge's greasy locks.

"That's a given." He rewarded her with a peck. "But then what?"

She slapped his arm lightly. "Don't be getting any ideas," she warned, even though said ideas were already taking root in her own imagination. "How about we both fly out to Portland a day or two early, spend some time together then."

Chris pouted. "I don't want to wait that long to kiss you."

"Too bad," she smirked, but her face softened at his persistent pout. "We can talk on the phone until then, as long as you don't start singing again," she teased, kissing his lower lip.

He poked her side, causing her to shriek and try to wriggle away. "You love my singing."

"Whatever Mongoose."

Losing all interest in the banter, Chris pulled her closer, rubbing the tip of his nose against hers. "You never asked me what the flowers meant."

Her eyes flicked over to the bouquet before returning to his. "Who the hell cares? We're already kissing."

Silently conceding her point, he closed the distance between their lips.

END CHAPTER SEVEN

* * *

Author's notes: My brother had two comments about this chapter, which I will share with you now: "I knew that you'd put Orton in as a major character" and "Nobody is going to get the Peter Cook joke". Perhaps the Monty Python stuff is a bit dated... but if you've seen the Princess Bride, Peter Cook plays the role of the Priest at the wedding. And as for Orton... I've got plans for him, so get used to his presence :)

Sorry again about the lateness of the chapter, I'll do my best to get the next one out sooner. I do hope you enjoyed the coming together of Chris and Steph – I was specifically avoiding a dramatic scene and frilly words. This isn't the movies after all :) Please review and let me know what you think! Thanks again for reading, and until the next time I post, take care.


	8. Nuts

DISCLAIMER: I do not own Chris Jericho, Stephanie McMahon, or other wrestlers that appear in the following story. They are the property of the actors and actresses that portray them, as well as the WWE.

SPOILERS: Events from 9-14 Raw.

* * *

Flowers Can't Keep Secrets

CHAPTER EIGHT

He felt like the King of the World.  
  
Granted, the belt slung over his shoulder wasn't the heavyweight title, but the girl on his arm more than made up for its shortcomings.  
  
Looking to his right, Chris felt his grin widen as he looked at his beautiful sorta-almost-girlfriend (they still hadn't spoken about the details of their relationship, due to the massive amounts of making out over the past two days). Currently, she was talking to her mother about her father coming to Raw tonight.  
  
Cockily, Chris decided that Vance was coming to congratulate him on becoming the first seven time intercontinental champion in history. Secretly, the thought of Vince McMahon possibly confronting him about his not-quite relationship with Stephanie made his testicles shrivel up.  
  
One knew the paternal power of Vince when his daughter's beau was scared shitless of him and they hadn't even had sex yet.  
  
He then looked forward, and his face nearly cracked with joy.

Leaning on his crutches, Edge was slumped against the wall, digging through his pockets for some unknown item. Jericho assumed he was looking for his mini-moisturizer (Christian once confided in him that Edge was obsessed with his 'baby smooth' hands); never missing an opportunity, he slowed down his pace in hopes of making eye contact with the much taller man.  
  
As luck would have it, Edge caught sight of their feet and looked up. His face quickly contorted into disgust as Chris simultaneously patted his belt and moved his arm around Stephanie's waist.  
  
"Good evening, Edgeward," Chris called out smugly, stopping their forward movement.  
  
"Steph, babe, this is a joke, right?" The turn of events was making Edge sick to his stomach; it wasn't that long ago that _he_ had his arm around Stephanie and _he_ had that title belt slung over his shoulder. Stephanie snapped her cell phone shut and glared at Edge. "Did he just call me babe, Christopher?"  
  
"Like the pig, Stephy," Chris responded quickly, scared by the use of his full first name.  
  
"I thought so." She tapped at her chin a few times in thought. "I'm sure my daddy would LOVE to hear about this verbal harassment when he gets here tonight."  
  
Edge's eyes nearly popped out of his head (which, if one thinks about it, isn't all that inconceivable, considering that they usually protrude from his eye sockets in a bug-like manner). Paling visibly, he ran a hand through his stringy locks. "You misheard me Steph; what I said was, 'Steph, maybe you can revoke, right?' Like Bischoff's decision to strip me of MY title?" 

She gave him a strange look. "Maybe they should lessen your medication. You're making less sense than usual." She leaned her head against Chris's chest (by now, his lower lip was cracking from the strain of smiling so large) and led him down the hallway.  
  
"Now remember, once you drop me off at my office you can't bug me until the Highlight Reel is over," she stated. Stephanie had gotten little work done this weekend; every time she picked up a sheet of paper Chris would pull her into his lap and force her to kiss him.  
  
No one had ever told Stephanie that you can't force the willing.  
  
Chris suddenly backed her up into the wall, his smile wiped away. "Do you really have to work?" he asked, pasting on his innocent little boy look.  
  
"I have a lot to catch up on, no thanks to you," she said, annoyed at his games. "Besides, I doubt you want to have your arm around me with my father lurking around."  
  
Her not-quite boyfriend blanched, flashing back to the time in high school where a former girlfriend's father caught him rounding first on their living room couch. The foot up his ass then was ten times worse than the steel ladder enema he got last night. "Point taken," he conceded before scanning the hallways for the silver-haired monster.  
  
"What are you doing?"  
  
With the coast relatively clear (give or take a few techies), Chris leaned towards her. "This," he whispered before stealing a quick taste of her lips. "To tide me over."

It was Steph's turn to look around; finding conditions nearly the same, she smirked up at him. "Do it again."

Chris was in the middle of debating the pros and cons of feeling up his not quite girlfriend in the hallway when a hand clapped down on his shoulder. "You're FIRED!" a voice growled in his ear.  
  
Chris pushed himself away from Steph in a hurry, only to find Shelton smirking behind him. Grabbing his chest, he forced his testicles to stop retracting into his body. "Benji..." he gasped, unable to voice all of the threats filling his mind.  
  
Still leaning against the wall, Stephanie echoed his deathly glare. "Thanks for ruining the mood, rookie."

"Anytime," Shelton said with a grin. He had known about them hooking up (thanks to a dozen cocky 'I told you so' phone calls from Chris last Tuesday), but it was a mild shock of seeing them make out in public. Suddenly, he pitied whomever was at the PPV last night.  
  
With his breathing finally under control, Chris was torn between throttling his best friend or getting back to business with Stephanie. Of course, the latter would be witnessed by the former, and the last thing the King of Bling Bling wanted was an audience. "Benji, stop being a pervert and get lost," he said as he stared at Steph's heaving chest.  
  
"My face is up here, Jericho," Stephanie bit out, tilting his chin up.  
  
"Just admiring the Raw logo on your t-shirt, babe," Chris stated, daring her to get angry at his use of the endearment.  
  
Other than an eyebrow twitch, Stephanie showed no change in emotion (which was an immediate warning sign to Jericho). Giving him a coy smile, she stepped away from the wall. "Do you know what Chris's mom calls him, Shelton?"  
  
Chris began waving his hands around in distress. Shelton blinked, glanced at the distance exit, and futilely realized he was trapped. He just hoped it wouldn't scar him TOO badly.  
  
"Stephy, please..." Chris begged. It had come up during one late night phone call, after much cajoling on her part.  
  
"Chrissy Kittykins," she finished. "Because his best friend until he was 10 years was a stuffed cat."  
  
It was dead silent as Chris reflected on his plushy past while his two companions let their imaginations ran wild.  
  
Uncontrollable laughter filled the hallway seconds later.  
  
"Chrissy Kittykins," Shelton snorted. "Mmmmhmmm," was all Steph could say as she wiped a tear away.  
  
"A stuffed cat!"  
  
"Mmmhmmm."  
  
"This is too much!" Holding his stomach, Shelton took Steph's former position against the wall. "Whatever happened to teddy bears, man?"  
  
Chris could feel his face grow hot; he told himself it was out of anger, not embarrassment, at their callous words about Mr. Kittykins. "He was a better friend than the jackass I have now," he muttered under his breath.  
  
Letting out the last of her chuckles, Stephanie sent him a big grin. "Well, I'd love to stay and cat...I mean chat, but I should get to work."  
  
"That was weak," he almost-boyfriend snorted.  
  
She leaned up to peck Chris on the cheek. "Weak but effective. I'll see you later." Spotting the approaching Nidia, she sent the girl a wave before meandering off towards her janitor's closet. "Stupid bitch," Chris muttered as he watched her go. After his eyes lingered on her... finer assets, he returned his attention to a gaping Shelton. "What?"  
  
Nidia was standing to his right, already in her wrestling gear for the evening. She gave Chris a puzzled look. "What's up with Shel?" Chris merely snickered, kick-starting Shelton's brain back into functionality. "New outfit?" he asked casually (if casually means to sound like a prepubescent boy).  
  
"Si. I'm going to get my hands on that Molly Holly tonight, if it's the last thing I do."  
  
Both Shelton and Chris knew there was a reason behind Nidia's vow, and that they had both heard it more than once. However, since both were involved with woman issues, they had paid little attention to her explanation (although Shelton thought it had something to do with her new friend in Stacy Keibler). "Oh, well good luck with that, Nads," Chris said.  
  
Her nose scrunched up in displeasure at the nickname. "I was hoping you wouldn't remember that," she admitted, a small chuckle escaping against her will.  
  
"Did he just call you Nads?" Shelton didn't like not knowing the story, and he certainly didn't like Jericho calling his (well, sorta his) woman that name.  
  
Nidia rolled her eyes at Shelton playfully. "It doesn't matter, just a stupid nickname that Randy came up with when we were drinking." She didn't notice the way his shoulders tensed up, but Chris (having the insider info on the situation) certainly did. "Well, if you'll excuse us Nads, Benji and I need to have some guy talk," he said, putting a friendly arm around Shelton's shoulders.  
  
"Guy talk?" she repeated skeptically. "Yeah; hot chicks, good eats, ugly chicks... guy talk," Chris floundered.  
  
Even someone as painfully oblivious as Nidia would know of the inexistence of guy talk. Tossing her hair over her shoulder, Nidia gave them both the evil eye. "Ya know, if you two want me to get lost, just say so," she sniped, turning around and stomping down the hall.  
  
"Smooth."  
  
"You should talk, Benj. Why haven't you told her yet?"  
  
Shelton averted his eyes. "She wants Orton."  
  
Chris let out an exasperated sigh. "So make her want you." Leaning closer, he pinched his friend's cheek. "Steal some of my charming moves, if you want."  
  
Irritated, Shelton slapped his hand away. "Oh goodie, should I call her names first, or act like an egotistical jerk?"  
  
"Don't be jealous Benj, it's not attractive. It's not like you have any better ideas..."  
  
"Anything would be better than acting like a fool."

* * *

Ten minutes after she left the group, Steph was missing Chris.  
  
By the time the show started, she was getting grumpy.  
  
An hour after that, she gave up on working and began staring at the door of her office. First she'd throw something at his head for making her so needy, then she'd kiss the hell out of him. By the time Chris had done the Highlight Reel, finished the tag match and took his shower, she was ready to throttle him for abandoning her. 

It was crazy, yes; but then again, her genetic makeup didn't exactly allow for 'normal behavior'.  
  
Eons later (to her), her office door flung open, revealing the bastard. "Honey, I'm home!" Chris said in his best Desi Arnaz voice.  
  
It was a bad impression, he'd later admit. A Canadian tongue is incapable of a decent Cuban accent. But he didn't expect her to give him the finger.  
  
"Go away Jericho," Steph growled, her eyes still focused on the paperwork before her.  
  
Doing a double take between her and the stapler on the ground, Chris scratched at his head. "Not a fan of Ricky Ricardo, I guess."  
  
"Go away JERICHO," she repeated.  
  
"Why? I just got here." He barely ducked her next thrown object: her cell phone. "That wasn't a smart idea, you know."  
  
Steph's anger was bubbling over. "I don't care! The only person that ever calls me is you, and you're probably too damn busy acting like the King of the Sluts to even do that."  
  
He saw through her words, noted her pouting lower lip, and couldn't help but grin. "You missed me."  
  
A blush crept across the bridge of her nose as she looked up to glare at him. "Yeah, the same way I miss a yeast infection."  
  
Chris gagged. "Can we keep disgusting feminine problems out of this?" Striding to her makeshift desk, he leaned forward and gave her a smirk. "You're mad because you are obsessed with me."  
  
His still damp hair wafted the scent of Jhirmack, and she suddenly found herself turned on by the smell of his shampoo. She allowed her eyes to graze over his tight black Poison t-shirt (Bret Michaels was looking pretty darn good on Chris's pecs, she had to admit) before meeting his challenging gaze. "I think you're obsessed enough with yourself for both of us."  
  
"Oh?" He licked his lips slowly, the Golden Fleece of all Chris Jericho moves. Once the move was unleashed, the victim was flooded with uncontrollable lust.  
  
Without a second thought, Stephanie threaded her hands in his hair and yanked him down for a hot kiss. When he didn't respond, she leaned back in confusion. "Why aren't you kissing me?" she pouted yet again.  
  
Obediently, Chris gave her a small peck on the lips, curious as to what she would do next.  
  
He wasn't expecting her to grab the back of his head and drag him halfway across the table. Her lips trailed from his mouth to his ear, and he spasmed as she sucked on a particularly sensitive tendon. "Maybe I should find Edge; at least he knew how to kiss me," she whispered before licking the outer rim of his ear.  
  
That was a blatant lie. Stephanie had only kissed Edge twice, and both times she had nearly drowned from his excessive saliva. It was enough to scar her for life (and break off any further physical contact).  
  
He knew she was provoking him, but he became irrationally angry at the mention of his former competition. Grasping her shoulders, he pulled her as close as possible and punished her with his lips.  
  
At that point, Stephanie found it within herself to forgive him. After all, the honeymoon period wouldn't last forever.

* * *

Back in the privacy of Jericho's locker room, Shelton's eyes strayed from the main event playing on TV. He couldn't help but watch Nidia bite her nails and yell at the screen, even though each outburst opened the hole in his stomach just a bit wider. Idly he  
wondered if he was a secret masochist; when her still damp hair brushed his shoulder for the 6th time, he decided that it was worth it.  
  
When Triple H began the vicious head shots, Nidia's hand flew out and grabbed Shelton's forearm. "You have to do something, Shel!"What he really wanted to do was turn the VCR on record, so he could watch Orton's eventual bloodshed over and over. But his hard head was no match for his soft heart, especially when it came to her. Placing his hand on top of hers, he gently removed her grip, giving her the best smile he could force out. "Anything for you, _mi chica hermosa_,"  
he said. Instantly liking the way her eyes bugged out, he gave her a nod and rushed out the door. He'd have to thank Lilian Garcia for the quickie Spanish lesson next week.  
  
Running through the hallways, Shelton paid no heed to the wrestlers he bumped into - perhaps he could not tell Nidia how he felt about her, but show her with his actions.  
  
Of course, when the action involves trying to take out all three members of Evolution, it could be construed as stupid, rather than romantic.  
  
Luckily for his ass (and Randy's, for that matter), Chris Benoit had been one of the people in the hallway that was nearly mowed down. His curiosity peaked, the rabid wolverine tailed the young man; when he saw the circumstances, he decided that his interference would be rewarding, to say the least.  
  
When the odd trio finally retreated to the back, Shelton's eyes caught sight of Nidia rushing towards them. A lump rose in his throat as he saw her hurried pace and worried eyes; he could almost tell what would happen next.  
  
His fears were confirmed as she bypassed Shelton and flung herself into the arms of Randy. Shelton caught the surprised look on the former champion's face before he turned away, walking back... well he didn't know where, but he wasn't going back to the saliva fest in Jericho's locker room.  
  
"Shel!" Nidia called out behind him, pausing his retreat. "_Gracias_!"  
  
Thanks for letting me stomp on your heart once again, he adjusted mentally as he resumed walking, calling out a halfhearted goodbye over his shoulder. Now, if only he could get his heart to say that... 

END CHAPTER EIGHT

* * *

Author's notes: Yeah, I'm late again (as usual), but this time it was for a good reason – I was out having fun in my old college town. So, to apologized, I added some extras to make this chapter longer :) Hope you liked it; please drop me a review and let me know what you think!

Oh, and according to my friend Colleen, _mi chica hermosa_ means 'my beautiful girl'. I hope it's correct (my bilingual-ness only covers bits of Hungarian), otherwise I offer my apologies.


	9. Hamill Hair

DISCLAIMER: I do not own Chris Jericho, Randy Orton, or other wrestlers that appear in the following story. They are the property of the actors and actresses that portray them, as well as the WWE.

SPOILERS: Events from 9-21 Raw.

DEDICATION: This chapter is dedicated to Chris Jericho's hair. I love you Chris, I'll always love you, but why dammit! Dear god, WHY!

* * *

Flowers Can't Keep Secrets

CHAPTER NINE

Absence makes the heart grow fonder. And the body grow hornier. And the mind grow insaner.

Due to their inability to coordinate schedules (see: compromise), Chris and Stephanie hadn't seen each other since he drove her to the airport last Tuesday. Sure, they had talked on the phone nearly every day, but there were certain nuances that Chris liked about her that didn't come through on the phone. Like her lips, her tongue, her breasts, her ass, and her legs. Consequently, he spent the majority of his time trying to remember every detail of her lips, her tongue, and the rest; unable to concentrate on anything of importance (like his Intercontinental Championship match in less than two hours).

Running a hand through his hair, he wondered at what was keeping his temperamental technician. He had already expected to be past the verbal banter and halfway into the making-out at this point; after all, he had a match to warm up for. Sighing in frustration, he slipped on a Y2J t-shirt before exiting his locker room in a search for answers.

The first technician he saw, however, wasn't thrilled to see him. In fact, the kid nearly cowered into the corner. "Hey you!" Chris called, pointing at the somewhat familiar man.

_Dear God, don't let him be angry again_, Scotty thought to himself as he forced himself to breathe. "Yes Mr. Jericho?" he squeaked, rushing over to the man of his nightmares.

Chris took no notice of the younger man's trembling. "You're Stephanie's lackey, right?" he asked. Surely this kid would know where to find her.

Hearing his manager's name, Scotty panicked, falling to his knees. Jericho had to have found out about his involvement with the flowers, and given his behavior in the past, was none too happy about it. "Please don't kill me Mr. Jericho; she made me do it!" he cried out, wrapping his arms around the other man's legs as he begged for mercy.

"Whoa, that's enough there tiger, people are staring," Chris stammered, confused as to how one innocent question lead to another man's face in his crotch.

The timing couldn't have been better for a certain tag champion. When Rob Conway rounded the corner, he lost his breath at the sight of Chris Jericho being pleasured by another man. _I have a chance!_ the not-quite French Canadian thought to himself gleefully as he skipped towards the duo. "Bonjour, Monsieur Jericho!" he greeted eagerly. "Are you familiar with the phrase 'ménage a trois'?"

Chris's eyes widened at Conway's words; looking down at Scotty still clinging to him, he did the only thing he could: panic. "This isn't what it looks like, Kermit," he hastily shouted as he wiggled out of Scotty grasp. Once free, he eyed them both wearily before running down the hallway.

"Merde," Conway muttered at Jericho's retreating ass. Scotty, happy to be alive and unharmed, decided to play hooky the rest of the night.

Only after he entered the cafeteria did Chris chance to look over his shoulder. Thankfully, he didn't spot the queer Quebecker; upon surveying the room, however, he did spot the object of his initial search. "Steph!" he called out happily, winding his way towards her table.

With no janitor closets to spare, Stephanie had been forced to set up camp at one of the banquet tables; while she relished the extra desk space she did not enjoy the constant interruptions, including the one from her maybe-boyfriend. Her admonishment, however, died away on her tongue when she caught sight of him. "Oh my God!" she gasped.

Chris Jericho's beautiful blond hair had been chopped off, leaving sort of an awkward page boy, Dukes-of-Hazzard style.

Stephanie blinked back tears as she rose to her feet. "Oh my God," she said again, reaching a hand up to touch the fluffy locks. "What did you DO!"

"I told you I got it cut," he said, reaching his own hand up to mess with the locks. Minutes out of another scary encounter with Rob Conway and his almost-girlfriend wasn't making him feel better (minus her finger nails scratching lightly at his scalp, which was lovely).

"I thought it was going to be a trim," she admitted.

Chris frowned. "So you're saying you don't like it?" he huffed, crossing his arms across his chest defensively. The girl at the salon who cut it thought he looked sexy…

"It's… different," Stephanie copped out, removing her hand and giving him a smirk. "You kinda look like that guy from Star Wars."

"Star Wars!" A movie made in the late 70's; Chris certainly didn't like where this was going.

Her brow furrowed in thought as she examined him. "Yeah…. the blond guy who fought the guy in the mask."

Chris winced as if her words had slapped him. "You think I look like Luke Skywalker?" Luke was the biggest pussy in the movie; why couldn't she think of Han Solo?

"Was that his name?" Stephanie had no idea that she was insulting him; her knowledge of the movies came only from the bits and pieces that Shane had forced her to watch in their youth.

"Yeah, whatever," Chris said, his ego crumbling to the floor. His libido lost (due to the combination of Conway and a comparison to Mark Hamill), he turned away, hoping to find a dark corner to hide in.

A hand grabbed his arm. "Where do you think you're going?" Stephanie asked, giving him a pouty look. Had he forgotten that they hadn't seen each other for days, and that she really needed to be kissed at the moment? Didn't he want to kiss her?

She got her answer in the form of a sneer. "What do you care? Now you don't have to look at my pansy ass haircut!" Emitting a few choice curse words, Chris spun around and left the cafeteria.

"What a bitch," Stephanie grumbled, settling back into her chair. _All he ever does is bitch about women before he goes and acts like one._

It would take her about an hour (and some outside assistance) to realize that his mood swing, in fact, was well-warranted.

* * *

Hair is a sensitive issue, especially if one was Canadian.

After his not-even-close-to-being-a-girlfriend made that horrible Hamill comment, Chris rushed back to the comforts of his locker room to escape any more judgmental eyes. Once inside, he dug out his cell phone and fairly demanded that Shelton come to see him. He trusted that his best friend would objectively tell him the truth; or rather, he knew that Shelton would feel sorry for him and wouldn't say anything nasty.

Such a truer form of friendship had never existed before, where lies are detected and accepted as truth even before their conception.

A knock at the door, however, signaled the arrival of the wrong rookie. "Randalf?"

"Jericho," the younger man greeted before pushing past him and walking into the locker room.

"Of course you can come in," Chris replied sarcastically as he shut the door. Inwardly he braced himself for some sort of taunting about his hair, and readied his arsenal with a battery of Triple H ass-kissing retorts.

Randy, however, couldn't care less about Jericho's Mary Lou Retton-do (although he briefly wondered if this was yet another demonstration of Vince McMahon's power over Canadians). The young champ began pacing the room as he gathered his thoughts.

With an experienced eye, Chris smirked at the other man's behavior. "It's a woman, isn't it?" If there was anyone who could spot a man with woman troubles, it was Chris Jericho. After all, he had experienced a decades' worth in the past four months.

Randy snorted, hiding his surprise over Chris's intuitive nature. "Worse than that, dude; it's a Diva."

Chris forced out a laugh to cover his growing concern. He had a hunch that this was about their mutual Diva-friend and her gigantic crush; the problem lay with what side he was going to take: Randy's or Nidia's. Or Shelton's too, for that matter. "Divas are trouble, Randalf. Is she pestering you?"

"At every show."

"Calling your cell phone?"

"Nearly every night."

"Coming on to you?"

"Can't scrape her off these days."

"And you want nothing to do with her?"

Randy let out a guttural sigh. "I want everything to do with her. That's the damn problem," he admitted quietly, falling into a folding chair.

Chris's jaw dropped to the floor; the biggest womanizer on the roster (he and Christian excluded) was contemplating settling down with….. Nidia?! Instantly the Canadian pitied his forlorn best friend, for as soon as Randy made a move on her, Shelton would be trapped in platonic hell. And if there was on thing that drove men crazy, it was an unwanted platonic relationship. They might as well be brainless dogs, offering devotion and support while suppressing their desire to hump their masters.

Boy, Chris was sure glad he was never in that situation himself. Women never turned their back on him, EVER.

"So what should I do?" Randy asked.

Chris shrugged at the rookie. "Go for it, I guess," he said weakly, picturing himself plunging a steak knife in Shelton's back. There was no choice though; at least this way Nidia and Randy would be happy and Chris would only have to worry about one pathetic rookie instead of three. "Lay on that Orton charm and I'm sure she won't resist."

"You know it," Randy replied with a smirk. Feeling more at ease with his woman issues out of the way, the young man attempted to get comfortable in his hard metal chair. "So, how are things with Steph?"

Chris grimaced; a hand unconsciously stroked through his shortened locks. "Let's not go there, Randalf."

"Trouble in paradise?" The rookie waggled his eyebrows provocatively.

"Mind your own business, pervert."

"Who's a pervert?" Shelton asked as he burst through the door, only to spot his tag team partner sitting across the room. "Got my answer then."

"What's that about a pervert?" Nidia questioned behind Shelton. Her curiosity about the subject died when she saw the other occupant of the room. "Randy! I didn't know you were here!" she exclaimed, clapping her hands together.

"Shelton, Nidia," Randy nodded in their direction as he stood up, feeling like the outsider in a close group of friends. "Thanks for your help Chris, but I think I should get going."

"See ya," Chris said.

"Later," Shelton bit out, resisting the urge to give him the finger.

As Randy neared the door, Nidia suddenly lunged out and grabbed onto Randy's arm. "I'll go with ya Randy; I'm sure these two want to have some guy talk or whatever," she explained as she pulled him out the door. "But can we swing by catering? I could use some water."

"Um… sure."  
  
Chris caught the panicked look in Randy's eyes before he disappeared, and resisted the urge to laugh. Instead, he opened his mouth to tell Shelton he was an idiot…

Then closed it when Shelton started breathing in and out of his cupped hands. "Luuuoooooooooke, I am your fatherrrrrrrrrrrrr…." he droned before cracking up. When Stephanie had called his cell moments after Chris, explaining the whole situation and demanding to know why Chris would get pissy over it.

One look at Jericho's new 'do and he got his reason why.

"Not you too," the Canadian groaned. He idly wondered if he should shave off the rest or bite the bullet and get extensions.

"Use the force, Luuuuuooooooke."

A sneaker flew by Shelton's head, courtesy of Chris's nearby gym bag. "If you don't cut it out, rookie, then I'm not going to be nice to you anymore," Chris threatened.

Shelton snorted, but uncapped his hands. Chris's idea of being nice was tolerating another person's presence only as long as he/she listened to his bitching and moaning. Still, it was better than nothing. Examining the blond man's hair, the other man shrugged. "Steph was probably trying to get on your nerves. I don't think it's that bad."

Chris happily ate up the lie before beaming at his friend. "You're damn right it's not that bad, Benji boy, because no matter what my hair looks like, I'll always be the sexiest beast around," he boasted, tossing his hair in sync.

"Whatever you say." Shelton's eyes flicked to the door before returning to Chris's, asking a silent question.

With a sigh, Chris collapsed in the chair formerly occupied by Randy. "He wanted advice on a woman, Benj. It doesn't look so good for you."

The anger uncontrollably flared up in Shelton; before he could stop himself, he was beating the shit out of Chris's wall. _Stupid stupid stupid…_his mind taunted.

Jericho's jaw dropped as he watched his friend smash his fists into the concrete. He understood a bit of venting, but this was ridiculous! Rushing to his side, Chris quickly applied a full nelson, effectively restraining the other man.

"LET ME GO!" Shelton bellowed, trying to free himself. The anger was threatening to consume him completely.

"What the fuck is wrong with you?" Chris yelled back, straining to keep his arms locked. He didn't want to fight the younger man, but if the litter pisser took a swing at him, then it was all over.

"Go to HELL!"

"Get a hold of yourself!"

And as quickly as that, Shelton's anger dissipated, leaving only a wounded spirit and throbbing fists. "Let me go," he said again quietly, standing as still as a ghost.

At the change in tone, Chris removed his hands and released the young man. "What the hell is wrong with you?" he spat out, going into a defensive position. As much as he hated to admit it, this violent streak in Shelton scared the crap out of him.

Shelton didn't answer him; he instead sank to the ground, holding his head in his broken hands. He was losing control again; first with Evolution and now with the situation with Nidia. He cursed himself again and again for acting up in front of Chris, for his friend would pry, and he wouldn't be able to tell him the truth.

And there was still quite a bit of truth that Chris still didn't know.

* * *

Much later, Stephanie paced around in Chris's empty locker room, waiting for her not-quite-sure-if-he's-my boyfriend to return from his match with Shawn Michaels. She knew that he was getting his ass beat by Christian and Tomko (thanks to her headset, which now sat on the table), but he was taking forever.

Honestly, this was like his 11th Tomko-Christian beat down; couldn't he speed it up?

Finally, Chris stumbled through the door, holding the back of his neck and cursing the mother of Edge and Christian.

He then looked up and cursed for a much better reason.

Stephanie had done her hair up in two messy buns, a la Princess Leia. Taking a peek at her crib notes, she shoved them in her jean skirt before giving a pleading look to Chris. "Ah, help me Obi-Wan Kenobi, you're my only hope."

It was almost cute, if one could ignore certain problems.

"Hate to break it to you Princess, but Leia was Luke's sister. Try again."

Her nostrils flare in anger. "Fine then, be a little bitch about this," she sniped, stomping towards the door.

Chris reached out an arm and easily caught her before she could escape. Pulling her against his chest, he looked down at her with a smirk. "Your hair looks stupid like that."

She flushed at their closeness, but sneered at his words. "At least mine isn't permanent, bucko."

"Oh really?" He leaned closer. "But you still want me."

While the rest of her body said 'yes, please', Stephanie shook her head adamantly.

Chris nodded back at her.

She shook harder.

He nodded once.

Their lips met simultaneously, thanks to her leaning up and him leaning down.

After nibbling at her lower lip, Chris pulled away. "Do I really repulse you?"

She gave him a look. "Chrissy, darling, I dated Edge."

Filled with relief, he returned to the task at hand.

END CHAPTER NINE

* * *

Author's notes: Happy Thursday! :) In honor of Stephanie making an appearance on SD!, I have decided to make an appearance on as well. I hope you all enjoyed the update; my Shelton muse and Randy muse are warring with one another, so they got shared time this week. If you're confused by Shelton's behavior… good. That's how you're supposed to be :D

Now, let me say a hundred thank-yous to you guys! Getting a hundred reviews for this story is just the best feeling; so seriously, thank you to everyone who bothered hitting that button and supporting me. Special thanks to Linda, who (inadvertently, I believe) submitted that 100th review – hope the move goes well! With that settled… I wouldn't mind a few more, so please review this chapter and let me know what you think (minus the usual crappy grammar – I wrote this in two hours, I know it sucks :P). Until next week, take care!


	10. Forgotten

DISCLAIMER: I do not own Stephanie McMahon, Chris Jericho, or other wrestlers that appear in the following story. They are the property of the actors and actresses that portray them, as well as the WWE.

SPOILERS: Mention of events from 9-27-04 Raw.

* * *

Flowers Can't Keep Secrets

CHAPTER TEN

If love is a battlefield, then Chris and Stephanie were in the midst of World War IX.

"Asshole," Stephanie cursed under her breath as she furiously worked at the evening's schedule at her cafeteria table.

"Bitch," Chris grumbled as he stretched in his locker room.

It was a stand-off, to be sure. And neither side was willing to budge this time.

Shelton Benjamin, the sergeant peace keeper of the situation, was getting nowhere. "Steph, give the guy a break already! You guys have only been dating for three weeks!"

Stephanie huffed. "That is no excuse to completely forget my birthday, and you know it." She waved her pen at him as she got herself all worked up. "I wasn't expecting presents or balloons or even flowers dammit, but a phone call would have been nice! How hard is it to say 'Happy birthday Stephy you gorgeous thing, I am so lucky to have you in my life?'"

The young man winced; he unofficially sided with Chris on this issue, but his task at hand wouldn't allow for sympathy. "I'm not saying that what he did wasn't bad…"

"Downright horrible," Steph interjected, her pen ripping through sheets of paper as she scratched off another item on her to-do list.

"But then what do you say about what you did on Saturday?" Shelton finished, fixing her with a disapproving look.

A smirk played at the corner of her lips. "It was my birthday present to myself."  
-  
  
"She had me fucking arrested, Nads!"

Nidia, the deputy peace keeper of the situation, was careful to hide her smile behind her hand. "Did ya ever think ya deserved it? Forgetting a girl's birthday is a big no-no."

Chris leapt up from his position on his locker room floor. "Are you kidding me? She gets me thrown in jail for trespassing and you take her side?" Throwing his hands in the air, he wished for some divine inspiration about women. "And stop smiling, dammit! This is all your fault!"

His companion blinked. "Excuse me?"

"You purposely waited until after midnight on Friday to call me and ask what I got her for her birthday," Chris stated.

Nidia snorted. "You're pathetic, you know that? Can't even accept the blame for what you did."

"I flew down there the next day, didn't I? I tried to make it up to her, and bam! My ass is in the slammer!"  
-  
  
"Calling the cops and telling them that Chris is a prowler is one thing, but not bailing him out until Sunday is another." Shelton tapped his finger against his lower lip, a thought occurring to him. "What happened to the present he brought along?"

Stephanie wrinkled her nose in disgust. "That stupid stuffed pig? I threw it away."

Shelton's eyes widened. "You're kidding, right?" He groaned when she shook her head; no wonder Chris had blown a gasket. "I guess the diamond bracelet on the pig's leg didn't catch your eye."

She kept her demeanor cool. "Such a shame, but I'm sure he can get another one on the Home Shopping Channel."  
-  
  
"A Tiffany's diamond tennis bracelet, Nads. Cost me a bloody arm, leg, spleen, you name it." Chris shook his head sadly. "And now it's probably sitting in some landfill, or a hobo saw it and pawned it off to buy bourbon or something."

Nidia tsked. "It sucks Chris, but you had to see where she was coming from…"

"I don't care! I tried to make it up to her and I end up in jail. Then, she throws away the nicest thing I've ever bought any chick!" Collapsing next to Nidia on the bench, he gave her his best puppy-dog eyes. "Is it so wrong for her to apologize?"  
-  
  
"How could you even say that!" Stephanie screeched, standing from her seat (and causing a number of their noshing neighbors to wince). "I'd rather die than apologize to him first! HE FORGOT MY BIRTHDAY!"

After a few calming words and assurances that she had every right to be mad about Chris's forgetfulness, Shelton decided that working with Stephanie was rather hopeless. At this point, she wanted nothing short of a groveling Jericho.

In the hallway, he met up with his deputy. He noticed her thin lips and annoyed expression, and surmised that she had done as well as he had. "Have any luck?" Shelton asked anyway.

Nidia snapped her gum and shook her head. With her brown curls flying about, Shelton indulged himself by mentally adding a porno soundtrack. "He's mighty pissed about the jail time. How 'bout you? Have any luck with Steph?"

The young man laughed. "She's all riled up about his missing her birthday. Doesn't feel guilty at all about what she did." He stroked his chin thoughtfully. "Try to get her to come to Chris's locker room if you can, if only to argue. It won't take long for them to start making out."

"I'll do my best," Nidia sighed. "They are avoiding each other like the plague."

"That's true…" And unfortunately, there was only one thing Shelton could think of that would willingly bring the two of them together.

* * *

A key difference between Shelton's and Chris's plans is that Shelton's had a high success ratio. While tonight was no different, the former never assumed that he'd nearly get brained by Triple H's championship belt. Nevertheless, when Shelton managed to stumble backstage, he found everyone he was expecting. 

"I hope that shot to the head knocked the stupid out of you," Stephanie admonished, handing him the ice-pack that sat on her clipboard. Honestly, she would never have become his friend if she knew he was going to be this accident-prone!

Standing as far away from her as possible (which wasn't far, considering the size of the hallway), Chris continued to scowl. "It's funny that you're calling Benj stupid, when you were married to that overgrown ape."

Stephanie's nostrils flared, a sure sign of an impending bitch-fest. Catching her reaction, Nidia stepped forward to make peace. "Guys, why don't we…"

"I'm stupid?! You dare to call me stupid?" Stephanie loudly interrupted. Seconds later, she was waving a finger in Jericho's face. "The only stupid thing I've done lately was get involved with you!"

"I would agree with you, except _I_ was the stupid one that got involved with _you_, toots," Chris growled back. "And I'm giving you three seconds to get that finger out of my face or else."

"Or else what?" Stephanie flicked his nose in defiance.

Immensely pleased by the scene before him, Shelton grabbed Nidia's arm and started walking towards his locker room. He had his guesses about the threat; making out against the wall wasn't all that dangerous, if you asked him.

"What are you so smug about?" his companion asked, playfully punching his arm.

"Hey, I'm an injured man!" he exclaimed, but his growing smile betrayed him.

"Unbelievable," Nidia commented, her arm snaking around his as they walked. Her skin burned his, adding to his silent torture. "You provoked Triple H just to get those two back together?"

His smile faltered, but she took no notice. "Pretty brilliant, huh?" It had nothing to do with his other growing problem.

Absolutely nothing.

* * *

With Chris and Stephanie, it was never 'make love not war', but the more volatile 'make war, then make out'. And the war part was wearing thin on both of their nerves. 

After the (un)acknowledged departure of their friends, the two warriors had engaged in an intense stare down, with Chris holding Stephanie's wrist to prevent any more flicks. Both saw, and ignored, the desire growing within the other, since neither was really ready to get off of their high horse.

"Let go of me," Stephanie growled.

"Apologize for flicking me," he replied.

She sniffed. "You apologize first for forgetting my birthday."

"Not until you apologize for throwing me in jail."

"Forgetting my birthday is worse!" she pouted.

His eyes flickered to her pursed lips, and his mind reminded him of their softness. He wanted this fight to be over, but wit him on top (figuratively, although he wouldn't mind the latter). And in typical Chris Jericho fashion, he was struck with a brilliant thought. "I'll apologize for your birthday…"

"About time," Stephanie mumbled.

"IF, if and only if, you can tell me when mine is."

_Shit. _To Stephanie's credit, she hid her panic well as she scoured her brain for an answer. "It's in November," she eventually responded, sticking out her tongue. After all, he didn't ask for an _exact_ date, now did he? "Now apologize!"

It was Chris's turn to pout. "You have no idea what day my birthday is, and you want me to apologize! According to your standards, I should have you thrown in prison and throw away all expensive gifts from you."

Stephanie's eyes sparkled. "I never threw away anything expensive," she said, holding up her free hand. Her sleeve fell back to reveal a familiar diamond tennis bracelet. She smirked at his astounded expression.

"You…. you… you bitch!" the blond man stammered, while his wallet breathed a sigh of relief. "You found the bracelet AND still made me sit in jail all night?"

"Best of both worlds, if you ask me." She pressed her lips to his in a brief, searing kiss before pulling back with a giggle. "I do hope no one made you their bitch while you were in the slammer."

Peeved that she teased him with that itty bitty kiss, Chris let go of her arm, only to haul her up against him. "Me? Someone else's bitch? You've got it all wrong babe; the boys in there were scared of my impressive physique."

She yanked at a strand of his hair, perhaps a little too roughly. "I thought Luke Skywalker was big on the prison scene. You know, with all that 'using the force' and stuff."

His eyes narrowed at the dig, but another kiss from her silenced any retort he could think of. And, as Shelton had anticipated, the making out against the wall commenced, much to the chagrin of onlookers.

* * *

Later that evening, and en route to his rental car, Shelton caught sight of another man and frowned. Pausing, he set down his bag and crossed his arms. "What do you want?" he demanded loudly. 

Randy raised up his hands defensively. "Chill bro, it's just me."

"I'm not your bro," the other man spat back. He would never willingly be this man's bro, homie, dawg, or any other buddy buddy term.

The former champion shrugged, then hopped off of the car trunk he sat upon. "Look, I know what's going on with you and Hunter."

Shelton merely raised an eyebrow at him; to be honest, he wasn't all that surprised. His trouble with the Game had begun long before Randy had grown the balls to leave Evolution. "So what? That's my business."

"That's my business," Randy mimicked. "No it's not! Not when it involves our friends…"

"I can handle this," Shelton hissed, his temper beginning to rise. He'd been handling this by himself for weeks now; pussy boy's interference would only lead to more trouble. And more trouble could be the proverbial straw that broke Shelton's back. "I suggest you stay out of it before you make it worse."

Randy threw up his hands in exasperation. "Oh sure, you've been handling it great! Tell me, what was Hunter going to do to her if you got a clean win on him, huh?"

Icy fingers gripped at his heart in recollection. Taking a deep breath, Shelton bent to retrieve his things, before pinning Randy down with a stare. "Things have changed since you left the boys' club, Randy; if I were you, I'd worry more about my own neck."

"Whatever. Don't say I didn't try to help or nothing," the other man replied nonchalantly before heading back to the arena. After all, he DID have to worry about his own neck tonight in his match against Batista.

Shelton watched him go, but made no move to continue towards his car. His blood boiled at how Randy had dismissed his comment about things changing, for Triple H had a new target these days. A target that Shelton was forced to protect because of Nidia.

Unfortunately, the protection would come at quite the high cost.

END CHAPTER TEN

* * *

Author's notes: Arrrgh, I've spent six days rewriting this chapter and it's still not right. Oh well, it's Sunday and I'm forced to give up and post what I got; sorry if the beginning is a bit choppy, but in my mind it was one of those split screen scenarios, and that's rather hard to translate in words :) Review, and let me know what you think! Until next week, take care :) 


	11. Noble

DISCLAIMER: I do not own Stephanie McMahon, Chris Jericho, or other wrestlers that appear in the following story. They are the property of the actors and actresses that portray them, as well as the WWE.

SPOILERS: Mention of events from 10-04-04 Raw.

* * *

Flowers Can't Keep Secrets

CHAPTER ELEVEN

There was a time when a ban on entering the arena was a horrific event for a wrestler. Not only would he not be able to earn a paycheck that evening, he risked losing the momentum of his feud and even the favor of his fans (if applicable; heels couldn't give less of a damn about the fans).

Somewhere along the line, however, the idea of an arena ban became less of a threat and more of a challenge to the banned. And when the warden of the show was Eric Bischoff (an incompetent fool, according to a certain McMahon), the challenge became nonexistent.

Thus, it was easy for Randy Orton to sneak into the arena that night, telling the naïve security guards that he was on their list, under the name Shelton Benjamin. Since the pair hadn't watched wrestling since the days of the Million Dollar Man, they crossed off Shelton's name and wished him a good evening.

With the security issue out of the way, Randy's only problem became that of where to hide until he could get his hands on Old Man Flair. Unfortunately, he was a man of few allies and fewer friends, which left him with only one torturous choice…

"Am I hotter than Stacy Keibler?"

"Of course babe; hot girls are smart, and that girl can't support a brain on those chicken legs of hers."

"Stop calling me that!" She thumped his chest with her fist before cuddling closer to him from her perch on his lap. "Am I hotter than Victoria?"

"No contest! Former crazy bitches aren't hot."

"Am I hotter than…"

"For the love of God!" Randy cried out, interrupting Stephanie's interrogation. "Steph, let me sum up all of his answers: yes, you are hotter than Stacy, Victoria, Trish, Molly, Lita, Gail, Nidia, Ivory, Lilian, any of the Diva contestants, and all of the female population backstage at Raw."

Stephanie's forehead wrinkled. "What about the girls on Smackdown?"

It was around this time that Randy wanted to die; instead he settled for resting his head in his hands and reminding himself that there was, indeed, a light at the end of this terrible tunnel.

Chris, thankfully, had had enough with the twenty questions as well. "Why do you keep harping on this, Steph? You know you're hot shit."

"Oh, I know. I was just making sure that YOU knew it too," Stephanie coyly responded with a wink. She then proceeded to lean down and lick his lower lip, causing Randy to gag on his own tongue.

Chris shot a lecherous grin at their uncomfortable guest. "Randalf, you might want to cover your eyes," he warned before engaging in a heated lip-lock with his girlfriend (yes, the couple had officially figured out their status this past Saturday, when Stephanie came to visit Chris at his apartment. The scene apparently went something like this:

Chris: Are you really going to wear that to dinner?

Steph: (adjusting her cleavage) What's wrong with it?

Chris: No girlfriend of mine is going to dinner looking like a skank!

Steph: Since when am I your girlfriend?

Chris: Since NOW.

Chris's neighbors, who heard every word through the paper-thin walls, insist that was a rather heartwarming scene. They had no immediate comment on the bed-warming that took place afterwards).

Randy kept his eyes trained on the floor, grimacing after every smack, slurp, and moan; if he heard a zipper, he was outta there, ban or no ban.

Luckily for the young man, his second break of the evening came in the form of someone knocking on Chris's dressing room door. Randy darted into the bathroom, while Stephanie moved off of Chris's lap to sit beside him demurely (an effect completely ruined by her smudged lipstick).

"Come in!" Chris bellowed, angry that someone had ruined the moment with his lovely girlfriend.

Shelton stormed in, followed closely by Nidia. "Where the hell is he?" he demanded loudly, his head swinging from side to side as he scanned the room.

Chris couldn't help but wonder when his locker room became the rookie haven. _Eh, it's not like I have a rep to protect anymore anyways._ "I'm right here, dimwit."

Relieved that he hadn't been busted, Randy exited the bathroom, only to be shoved against the wall seconds later. "Hey!"

"What the hell?" Stephanie questioned loudly. Actually, she really didn't care if Shelton threw a punch at Randy, but rather wanted to know WHY this had to be going on in Chris's locker room. There was a time and place for fisticuffs, and while the time was now the place was definitely the hallway.

"Don't mind me, just gonna punch Shelton here in the face," Shelton snarled, pulling back his fist and aiming for the pretty boy's nose.

Nidia (who was quite attached to the appendage in danger) grabbed Shelton's hand and held him back. "Shelton, don't!"

Stephanie and Chris exchanged a similar confused/annoyed look. Part of them wanted to ignore it all and go back to making out; the other half was curious as to this new drama. It was the newest, hottest soap opera, 'Days of Our Rookies', and they were powerless to turn it off. "Why is Shelton calling Randy Shelton?" Chris asked slowly, nearly confusing himself further by his own statement.

"Randy snuck in under Shelton's name, so the guards wouldn't let him Shelton in," Nidia said over her shoulder before her attention snapped forward. "Shelton, stop this right now!" she demanded, squeezing his hand.

Shelton acquiesced; as he feared that he would someone end up hurting her accidentally. His anger, however, did not diminish in the least. "I'd think twice before checking in as me again," he hissed, cracking his knuckles for effect.

Randy was unfazed. "That's odd, I thought I checked in under Giant Douchebag… do you wrestle under a different name?"

His last nerve snapped, and with the sudden desire to feel his bones cracking under his hands, he lunged at the other man. Nidia jumped in between the two men at the last second, and was smashed between their two chests. "That is enough!" she shrieked, causing even Stephanie (who was used to high-pitched screams) to wince.

Shelton thought for sure that she'd yell at Randy for provoking him. But no; after giving her crush an apologetic look, she turned her fury towards him. "This is crazy!" she yelled, pushing his chest and causing him to stumble backwards. "I can't believe that I have to yell at you, of all people, for acting like an idiot! Usually I have to save it for them!"

Stephanie and Chris scowled under her pointed finger, but remained quiet. It was a delicate time, as it appeared that Shelton was going to blow a gasket, and they didn't want to miss a second of it.

The heat of her anger made his evaporate quickly. "You just don't get it, do you?" he said, more to himself than to her.

"Get what?" Nidia asked, her voice softening a bit. She'd never seen Shelton look so lost…

The pair on the couch leaned closer with bated breath. Was Shelton finally going to tell her how he felt? What was she going to do, with Randy standing not a foot behind her? Was there any way of them getting some popcorn in here?

Shelton couldn't breathe, not when she had him pinned under those soft brown eyes. His resolve was slipping, and yet he saw his opportunity to do what he had to do. "The only reason you're attracted to him is because he's a bigger whore than you are."

Those on the couch gasped.

Randy's mouth dropped open.

Shelton's cheek met Nidia's hand. The soft look in her eyes hardened into glistening stones. "You bastard!"

He wanted to vomit, but the knife was already in her back. He had to finish the job. "Slapping me won't change the facts, Nidia. You're always chasing after the guy you can't have, but end up settling for white trash." The venom was dripping off of his tongue, and he was powerless to control it. "When you're done playing Cinderella, I'm sure Jamie will let you move back into the double wide."

Nidia slapped him harder this time, and he welcomed the warm sting. "I hate you," she hissed, barely keeping her tears at bay.

On the couch, Stephanie shuddered and scooted closer to Chris, who wrapped his arm around her shoulders. The cold, malicious look in Shelton's eyes reminded her way too much of her ex-husband.

Holding his reddened cheek, he gathered up his remaining energy and pasted on a smirk. "The guys on Smackdown were right, you are a _punta_." His victory ensured by the tears that now wet her cheeks, Shelton exited the locker room, but not before sending a look in Randy's direction.

* * *

_Well, that went well._

Shelton aimlessly walked the backstage hallways as he mind replayed the previous events. Sadly enough, he was almost PROUD of the fact that he had kept his emotions at bay (if he didn't feel like the biggest ass that ever walked the planet).

He tried to remind himself that this was for her own good; that while they were friends she was only a target. Randy, despite his being the world's biggest doofus, would be quite capable of protecting her. Plus, she would unwittingly distract Randy from getting revenge against his former teammates, allowing Shelton to move forward with his attacks on Hunter.

The young man sighed as he turned a corner, remembering the way her brown eyes shot daggers at him, even through all those tears. He didn't dare hope that she'd forgive him, but perhaps understand where he came from, why he had to do it. For whether Triple H liked it or not, Shelton wasn't going to do his dirty work anymore. And if it meant betraying Chris, berating Stephanie or even hurting Nidia again, then so be it.

Maybe he was a stupid rookie, but at least he was a stupid rookie who stuck out his neck for his friends.

* * *

"So are you guys dating or what?" Chris suddenly asked, earning a slap from Stephanie for being an insensitive cad. "What? If they're dating, that could explain a lot," he said, stressing the last few words and giving his girlfriend a pointed look.

"Don't listen to him," Stephanie cut in quickly, holding back a laugh at Randy's reddened cheeks. Seeing the other woman's still shaking a bit, she frowned and stood from her seat. "You know that everything that Shelton said was completely untrue, right Nidia?"

Nidia sniffled. "Yea. Still doesn't make it hurt any less though."

"If I've said it once I'll say it a thousand times, that boy is an idiot." Stephanie laid a hand on Nidia's shoulder and squeezed. She would know an idiot too; she was dating the biggest one she'd ever met.

"He HAS been acting strange for awhile now," Chris added with a yawn.

Although he sounded less than concerned, the opposite couldn't be more than true. Chris was terribly worried about his best friend; he had been the sole witness to a number of those crazy outbursts before, but usually the only victim was a wall. Now, after this incident, he wondered about the severity of Shelton's issues.

"You know, I think it has something to do with Evolution," Nidia offered quietly. "When he drove me here last week, he made me stay in the car until he checked the parking lot for them. I didn't think it was a big deal then, but now…"

Something clicked inside Chris. _Who always makes me moody and act irrationally?_ "Nads, you're right! It has to be Hunter," the blond man exclaimed, jumping up from his seat. "I bet he's harassing Benji to no end, that conceited chump!"

Stephanie scratched her head. "It would explain Shelton's antics last week, but that doesn't explain tonight very well."

"Well then, it looks like I'll have to investigate a bit," Chris responded. He knew that Hunter would probably open the show with one of his boring monologues; if he could goad the champ into a match later on, perhaps he could get some answers. After all, he was busy worrying about himself and Stephanie; worrying about his best friend would probably have some adverse effects.

Randy kept pretty quiet throughout the exchange. Shelton had sent him that warning look for a reason; it was clear that he was to remain quiet about what he knew. Even though his companions had figured out the cause, the extent of Shelton's problems was still a mystery. But frankly, Randy didn't care; if Shelton's idea of 'handling it' was to degrade Nidia, then he deserved every bit of Hunter's punishment.

END CHAPTER ELEVEN

* * *

Author's notes: Hey y'all; just wanted to thank you for the reviews last chapter. I've cooked something great up for the next few chapters, I hope you will stick around and try to enjoy it. Leave a review if you'd like; let me know what you think. Thanks, and until next week, take care! :)


	12. Tickled

DISCLAIMER: I do not own Shelton Benjamin, Nidia, or other wrestlers that appear in the following story. They are the property of the actors and actresses that portray them, as well as the WWE.

SPOILERS: None. Thanks a lot Raw writers, for making me try and _think_ of chapter filler :)

DEDICATION: To Nina, because only she could have her epic work "Hugs and Kisses" deleted TWICE and still not boycott this fanfiction site. This fic is no HaK, but I hope it'll have a quarter of the entertainment value that HaK provides :D

* * *

Flowers Can't Keep Secrets

CHAPTER TWELVE

It is amazing what measures people will take in order to avoid someone. They might take the back way, hide out in an office, or even call in sick, just to miss that awkward meeting or forced conversation.

Shelton was doing just that; sneaking around corners and hiding out in the parking lot to ensure that he wouldn't see a certain brunette. He would lock himself in his dressing room, but there were two major problems with that: 1. he didn't have one tonight, and 2. he needed to talk to Chris about the IC match.

It seemed, however, that his stealth skills could use some honing.

Having successfully stalked him to the production truck, Nidia strutted towards the oblivious young man, her anger rising with every click of her hells. "Shelton!" she said curtly.

Shelton's head whipped around at her voice, hoping he was just hearing things. Unfortunately, hallucinations don't have fiery brown eyes. "Uh, hi?"

"We have to talk." She paused, shook her head at her words. "On second thought, I think I'll do all the talkin'."

Forcing his hands in his pockets, the young man steeled his spine and prepared himself for the onslaught. He knew that he deserved every insult she flung his way, but it didn't make him feel any less nervous.

The brunette was a bit surprised by his compliance (having fully expected to chase him around for another half-hour until she trap him), but she didn't let it distract her. "Ya know, I hated Smackdown a whole bunch after Heyman took over and Jamie became a creep, so I was more than happy to be drafted to Raw. I thought it would be a fresh beginnin', but I never expected for my first friend on Raw would be from Smackdown too."

Shelton swallowed hard, keeping his eyes focused on the truck behind her. This recap was worse than insults, and harder to brush off to boot.

"I still remember sitting in the cafeteria and feeling lonely when you strolled up with that piece of cake. You made me eat every damn bite of it too," she mused, a smile threatening to bend her lips. "Then you go and tell me that you know about the flowers, an' that you needed me to reveal myself to Chris before he had an aneurysm." She shook her head. "Ya were right about that, he was a big mess."

Shelton could picture that day so clearly. He had all intentions of bitching her out that day, but stopped short at the sad look on her face. So he got her that cake, under the guise that they were both newbies to Raw and 'should stick together'. It was that day that he noticed how cute she really was…

She had started talking again; Shelton shook off his thoughts and tried to pay attention. "… We were o.k. friends after that, you, me, and Chris, but I think we got closer after you protected me from Trish and Tomko that one time. I can still see you smashing that chair into Tomko's head and telling Trish to crawl back in the gutter." Tears stung at her eyes; he had been her knight in shining armor. "Of course, I couldn't tell him the real truth of why Trish was attacking me; that's probably a sign right there."

"You know why I asked you to lie. Chris would have self-destructed if he had found out the real reason why you started sending those flowers," Shelton interjected, ignoring her glare. He knew that he was supposed to keep quiet and be a good boy scout, but this was just silly.

Nidia waved her pointer finger in his face. "Shut up! I'm talking. And it doesn't matter why I did it anyway; the feelings were still there, at least in the beginning." Still angry about his outburst, she allowed her temper to emerge. "I'm sure you're tired of the sentimental bullshit, so let's cut to the chase. You've always protected me; you made a point of doing it week after week after week. I even started trusting you, and hell; that doesn't happen with me and guys often." She swiped away some tears and kept her voice steady. "That's why I don't believe a word you said last week."

Shelton blinked; did he miss something? Was she hard of hearing? Hell, the things he said to her were still rattling around in his brain.

She paid no attention to his surprise. "I spent all week trying to figure out why, and then I realized that you had moved on."

"Moved… on?"

"You are protecting someone else now. And whoever this person is, Evolution is after them. That's why you've been so paranoid about them jumping you as of late."

He must be in some twisted dream, for usually dream Nidia would just jump his bones instead of deducing his plans. Shelton wanted to pinch the girl in front of him (just to make sure), but did not wish for an answering slap.

She was talking again, poking his chest for effect. "… big girl, and I can handle them. All you ended up doing was ruining our friendship. So I hope you're happy, and I hope Hunter and Evolution doesn't kill you, but I won't say that I won't enjoy watching your ass get beat a few more times." With nothing left to say, and the awkward feeling crawling up her spine, she turned to leave.

"Wait," he said, grabbing her wrist. She turned back, her cold stare making him shudder. "Please…. be careful."

She sniffed. "The only person that would attack me is you, Shelton. But I doubt you'd do that twice in two weeks, right?" Not waiting for an answer, she tore out of his grip and stalked away, his hurtful words drowning away in a feeling of contentedness.

Shelton stared after her, his hand still outstretched. He was ready for her hurt, her anger, and curse words, and what he got was her nearly correct deduction of the situation, followed by one smart remark.

It sure didn't sound hatred, that was for sure.

His heart pounded at the thought of him still having a chance.

* * *

Meanwhile, as 'Days of our Rookies' played out in the parking garage, Chris was hanging out with the remaining available rookie.

"I'm booooooooooooooored," the blond whined. Stephanie was working somewhere else in the arena, Shelton and Nidia (a constant source of entertainment, whether they knew it or not) were missing, and his companion didn't share his love for heavy metal.

In the world of Chris Jericho, this situation was about as fun as geometry class.

"Try pulling your lip over your head and swallowing," Randy sniped, mentally reminding himself that he really, really, REALLY needed some new friends.

Chris raised an eyebrow in the other man's direction. "What crawled up your ass and died?"

"Ric Flair," Randy scowled.

"Well that doesn't count; Flair's been dead for years," Chris deadpanned. When he didn't get an eye roll, Chris sighed and went into 'friend mode'. "Why is Flair bugging you so much?"

"I just don't get it," the ex-champ said with a sigh. "When I was in Evolution, Ric thought up 'the Legend Killer', built me up as 'the Legend Killer', and even had me believe that I was 'the Legend Killer'. So why is he taking it all back now? Why is he doing this?"

"Because he's senile?"

That got an eye roll, much to Chris's delight. "You are a terrible friend, dude," Randy remarked.

Chris shrugged; getting bored with the conversation, he decided to switch to something infinitely more interesting. "So, have you and Nads sealed the deal yet?"

"Excuse me?" Randy coughed, but the red cheeks were a dead giveaway to his attraction. "I haven't even asked her out."

"So you're just screwing then?"

Randy chucked a water bottle at the other man. "No, we're not just screwing. We're just friends for the moment."

"Friends… who make out?" Chris wouldn't let this one die.

"Occasionally," Randy admitted, throwing his friend a bone and deciding to turn the tables. "Steph still calling you out at home?"

The elation on Chris's face was quickly replaced by a scowl. "Yes," he seethed, trying to forget the oodles and oodles of sexual frustration in the back of his mind. "What is it with women and wanting it to be special? It's not like it's her first time!"

Randy snorted. "Far from it."

That got a deadly glare from Chris. "Watch it, Randalf. Don't be cracking jokes about my lovely girlfriend's past," he warned, emphasizing 'girlfriend'.

His friend snickered. "You're SO whipped."

Chris grimaced. "I'm not whipped! I'd stop being so jealous of me; you could have the Nadster bossing you around in the sack too!"

Randy, remembering a juicy piece of gossip, decided to ignore that last baiting comment. "Hey, do you know who I hear is actually whipped? Edge!"

That got Chris's attention. "The Crisco King has a queen? Since when? And who?"

"No one knows who she is, but I guess he spends all his time talking cutesy to her on the phone." Randy frowned. "And that whipped loser gets a shot at my title."

Chris laughed. "You think he's going to win that popularity contest? That's like voting the acne-ridden geek as Prom King! It's inconceivable!"

The image of a pimply-faced Edge wearing a tiara floated through Randy's mind, causing him to bust out laughing. "You're probably right. I'd expect you to be sympathetic though, since you never grew out of that acne-ridden geek phase."

"You're so dead, kid," Chris said as he launched himself at his friend, the pair engaging in a friendly bout of man-tussling.

At the door, two women indulged themselves at the appealing sight.

"You know, this would be better if they were wearing Chippendale attire," Stephanie whispered to Nidia.

The other woman nodded her assent. "And if they were fighting over us or something."

"Oooh! Good one!" Stephanie sighed wistfully. "I wish I had a camera."

"Good idea!" Quietly opening her purse, Nidia pulled out her cellular phone, which had all the newest accessories: music videos, text messaging, cheese grater, and of course, a camera. Flipping the device open, she aimed the lens at the two tussling men. "Say cheese!" she shouted.

Chris looked up in time to see the camera go off; Randy, whose head was locked at Chris's side, was spared of the resulting 'deer in headlights' look.

The resulting picture would end up as Nidia's phone screensaver, the wallpaper n Stephanie's computer, and, somehow, a 11" X 14" photo on Rob Conway's refrigerator (with the caption: Double Delite."

As the girls laughed, Chris and Randy disengaged and leapt to their feet. An all-out tickle war was declared seconds later, with shrieks and screams of laughter that had heads turning throughout the entire backstage.

Stuffing his hands back in his pockets, Shelton quickly walked away from the doorway, lest he be seen by anyone inside. Part of him ached to be in there, to be acting like a child and not caring about Hunter or Evolution or even his feelings for Nidia.

But that was the problem with caring: once one starts, it is nearly impossible to stop.

END CHAPTER TWELVE

* * *

Author's notes: Hey guys! Sorry this chappy is a bit short, but Raw didn't give me ANYTHING to work with (how many times do I have to watch Chris get his ass beat by Batista? I heart Dave, I really do, but good lord it's getting old!). I like to think of this chapter as a teaser for next week… think of it like soap opera teasers. Who is Edge's mysterious girlfriend? Will Randy and Nidia become official? Will Chris ever go all the way with Stephanie? What about Shelton? If I were you, I'd tune in next week; it's going to be a fun one :P Until later days, take care all :)


	13. Susie

DISCLAIMER: I do not own Shelton Benjamin, Nidia, or other wrestlers that appear in the following story. They are the property of the actors and actresses that portray them, as well as the WWE.

SPOILERS: Mention of events from 10-18-04 Raw, and alludes to outcome of Taboo Tuesday.

PRE-STORY AUTHOR'S NOTE: This chapter may offend some due to some satirical content. Please read with an open mind, and check out the author's notes at the end for the whole story. Thanks :)

* * *

Flowers Can't Keep Secrets

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

Mixed tag matches, in which two superstars are thrown together to battle their respective enemies, used to be a thing of novelty. The fans would gape at the performers, wondering which benevolent god gave them both Hulk Hogan AND Macho Man on the same team (that god was Vince McMahon, and even he made mistakes (see Hogan/Brutus Beefcake pairing)).

While it used to be a challenge for uncommon tag partners to, well, partner up, today's wrestlers are more than capable to work with random teammates. Still, there are certain factors that each new tag team has to negotiate, adaptability or not.

"So what color tights are you wearing?"

"Probably the sparkly blue ones."

The young man bit his lip; his shiny blue wrestling gear was his favorite (and not just because it brought out his gorgeous blue eyes). However, since his partner was older (and therefore, more crotchety), he knew he had little chance of winning this battle. "Fine, I have black ones I can wear," he said bitterly.

If they lost tonight, he would pin it on the lack of his lucky blue Speedo.

The blond nodded. "Good. Since we _are_ an amazing combination, how do you want to celebrate our win? Pats on the back? Man-hug?"

"What about ass-slapping?"

Jericho smirked. "Thanks Rob, but I don't swing that way."

Randy crinkled his nose at the insult. "What's wrong with a little butt slap? Athletes do it all the time, heck Hunter used to…."

The other man interrupted with a sigh; he had forgotten how impressionable rookies are. "Let's just keep to man-hugs, ok? And do me a favor kid?"

"What's that?"

"Start forgetting anything Hunter said was normal."

With those terms settled, the meeting was adjourned. Chris ventured into the hallway in search of his girlfriend; Randy wisely stayed in the locker room, in order to reduce the scarring of his fragile young mind.

On his way to the cafeteria, however, Chris found Edge pacing around in front of his locker room. This would be rather unremarkable to Mr. Jericho, if there wasn't a beautiful girl standing beside the King of all Grease.

Edge's infamous girlfriend had appeared, and lo and behold, she was a hottie.

She was tall, yet not too tall. Petite, and yet some would call her voluptuous. Dark blond (or was it light brown?) hair cascaded over slim shoulders. Her eyes were an odd bluish-greenish-hazel (again, it depended on the beholder). She appeared to have no makeup, and yet looked flawless.

If Chris didn't know better, he would proclaim that she was the figment of someone's imagination. And if he didn't have Stephanie, he might have been attracted to her, so much in fact that he would have declared his love after only a few short nights.

Thank GOD for Stephanie.

As he neared the couple, he caught sight of a stack of note cards in Edge's hands. "Everyone knows; Chris Benoit knows, Shawn Michaels knows, even Triple H knows, that I deserve a heavyweight title shot," he read slowly before flipping the card to the back. "How did that sound babe?"

The girl merely smiled, and yet her blindingly white teeth startled the approaching Chris.

"Alright, alright, how much did he pay you?" Jericho said, rubbing the spots from her eyes.

"Excuse me?" The girl's chameleon eyes were full of confusion. And unbridled lust, because she was a bad girl at heart. But mostly confusion. "Honey, who is this?"

Edge glanced at Jericho, then immediately wrapped an arm around the girl's waist. Heck, he had already lost one girlfriend to the guy. "This is Chris Jericho, probably the biggest asshole ever to walk backstage."

"Now now, don't try to be modest and pin me with your title." Deciding to rile up the tall grease ball, Chris gently grabbed the girl's hand and placed a kiss on the back of it. "I'm Chris ma'am, and you are?"

"Susie."

"Interesting name." She didn't really look like a Susie, but then again, Ric Flair didn't look alive anymore and he still wrestled.

"It's my middle name, actually. I was named after my mum, and it was less confusing that way."

"Susie's my dental hygienist," Edge interjected proudly. They smiled at each other, reflecting the light off of their teeth in a twisted game of Pong.

Chris didn't know what it was, but something about Susie irritated him. He also thought Edge's oral fetish was reaching a dangerous level.

Not noticing the other man's discontent, or the fact that two men didn't get along, Susie proceeded into her abridged life story. "That's how we met; I was cleaning his teeth and got distracted by those gorgeous eyes. 'Course, I didn't know he was a wrestler; I've never watched much wrestling. My mum wasn't a big fan, which is weird, because she used to be a huge groupie and know all of the old superstars personally."

"This is great and all, but…" Chris started.

"Anyway, it's pretty exciting to be backstage and all. I tried calling my mum but she said 'Mary honey, please be careful'. That's my first name by the way, Mary..."

Jericho's stomach was turning, and yet it was a train wreck: he couldn't step away. Edge, meanwhile, was used to Susie's rambling and had returned to his note cards.

"So I let Edgie drag me here, which is great because everyone's been so nice to me! It's almost like I belong here or something." Susie briefly paused. "I wonder if I can get a job here or something. Do you think that's possible honey?"

"Mmm whatever babe."

"Listen, this has been great and all, but I gotta split," Chris said uncomfortably. He wanted to leave, desperately, and yet he almost felt bad for leaving the girl, as if she had some strange power that made him want to like her.

"Well, it was great meeting you Chris. I am sure I'll see you around," she laughed.

Chris couldn't resist. "The question is: do you really want to be seen with this master debator?"

Susie's forehead wrinkled; a virtual 'I-don't-get-it.'

Shawn Michaels (who was walking by), pulled out a pen and wrote the clever phrase on his hand. A man from Texas wouldn't readily think of a clever pun like that, the only think he had come up with was a joke about 'sammichs' (which would still be used, unfortunately).

Since it isn't funny to explain one's puns, Chris decided it was high time he left.

* * *

Chris's best friend, meanwhile, wished that he could walk away. Unfortunately, it was rather hard to do that when he was being held against the wall.

"Have I made myself clear, boy?" the much larger man growled.

Shelton cringed as spittle flew out of his attacker's mouth and hit his cheek; what he wouldn't do to have minimal arm movement. "Crystal," he gasped out.

Nodding, Batista released his arm from the other man's chest, causing Shelton to collapse in a heap at his feet. "You WILL help me get that title, or else all deals are off."

"Whatever," Shelton grumbled softly. The ogre standing above him cracked his knuckles before sauntering off towards the exit. He relaxed on the floor for a few minutes before standing slowly and rubbing at his neck.

"Shelton?" a female's voice called out worriedly.

He whipped his head towards the noise, wincing as he strained already painful muscles. "Hey Lilian," he greeted quietly, not quite sure what to say. _How much had she seen?_ he suddenly worried.

Noticing the young man's laborious breathing, Lilian rushed over to him. "Are you alright Shelton?" she asked urgently. She was trying to find the production truck, not expecting to stumble across the crumpled body of a rookie.

He gave her a fake grin. "Just a little winded. Think I'll go lie down in my locker room."

Lilian placed a hand on his forearm, stopping him from walking away. "Do you need some help getting there?" she asked hesitantly. Even though they were acquaintances at best, she knew he was rather stubborn and would refuse her help. Still, she felt the need to try.

Shelton fulfilled her prediction with another painful shake of his head. "Nah, I should walk it off. I'll see you around." Pulling away from her grasp, he wrapped an arm around his chest and began walking down the hallway.

"Shelton? How did those Spanish phrases I taught you work out?"

He stopped in his tracks as a flurry of emotions flooded him. Pushing the thought of Nidia aside, he made a dismissive gesture with his hands. "Eh, I think I screwed them up," he lied.

It was actually a half-lie; on retrospect, he had screwed things up.

* * *

"Guess who I just saw?" Jericho stated as he plopped down in a chair beside Stephanie.

"Hold on a sec," she replied, scribbling a few extra words down on her maintenance log. Once completed, she set her pen down, then leaned over and gave her boyfriend a peck on the cheek. "My father?"

Chris blanched, scooting his seat farther away from his girlfriend. "Y-y-y-your father is here again?" he stuttered.

Stephanie rolled her eyes at his behavior. "Yeah, to promote the pay-per-view tomorrow and all," she said as she pulled Chris's chair back where it was. "Don't worry; he's holed himself up in the VIP lodge until the show starts."

"In that case…" Chris pulled Stephanie into his lap, her legs awkwardly straddling him. "Why don't you give your other daddy a kiss?" he leered, waggling his eyebrows for effect.

That earned him a hard smack on the chest. "You're a real sicko, you know that?"

"I don't hear you complaining, babe."

Growling at the nickname, she leaned in for a hot kiss, but broke it off when he tried to deepen it. "So who'd you see?"

"You call that a kiss?" Chris squeezed her butt, getting him a glare and another smack on the chest. "Ow! Alright, I saw Edge's girlfriend!"

"So?"

Chris frowned. "I thought you'd be interested, being the nosy person that you are." His cell phone chose that moment to vibrate in his pocket, but seeing as he was trying to dig information out of his girlfriend, he didn't answer it.

"I already met her. She had to sign-in with me as a guest when she got here…" she trailed off with a shrug.

"Wait, don't the security guards usually do that?"

An evil smile spread across Stephanie's face. "We had a bit of a change in procedures today, just in case."

"There's my nosy girl." He snuggled her closer; while most men would be put off by a scheming woman, he was rather proud of her interference. "So what'd ya think?"

"I don't know." And that was the truth; Stephanie wasn't sure of her exact feelings about Susie. Sure the girl was pretty, but in a 'you're dating Edge so it's not that threatening' kind of way. She was nice enough, but her chatterbox rendition of 'This is My Life' tarnished her image a bit. And her teeth matched Edge's, which was a bit scary.

All in all, Stephanie felt that if Edge and Chris were still friends, she and this girl could've become best friends. They would go to the mall together, chat on the phone; hell, even be each other's maid of honor. But Chris despised Edge, and therefore Stephanie could really care less about the girl.

However, if this Susie tried to go after her man, she would lay that bitch out. She repeated this sentiment out loud, as an extra warning to Chris.

Chris, being the egotistical man that he was, found this terribly amusing, and started mock complaining about being some chick's property. Worse, he lamented, he was 'property that wasn't getting laid'.

His girlfriend silenced him with a kiss full of promises; however, not one of them guaranteed a roll in the hay anytime soon.

* * *

Chris Jericho didn't answer his phone during his 'talk' (see: extended make-out) with Stephanie, nor would he answer it the three other times it rang. The Caller ID told him it was Shelton, but he didn't really care: if it was important, the rookie would search him out. Otherwise, he didn't want to hear more whining about Nidia.

The four time Shelton got Chris's voicemail, he lost his temper and smashed his phone against the wall. His so-called best friend was ignoring him, probably hanging out with Orton and having a gay old time. Emphasis on the gay.

Normally, Shelton would remind himself that Chris was quite shallow, and probably had some bullshit excuse as to why he didn't take his calls. He would calm down, paste on a smile, and go be good ol' Benji.

Not tonight. The accumulation of guilt over Nidia coupled with the ongoing stress of his Evolution woes had brought him to the brink.

He was tired of pretending.

He was tired of a lot of things.

Perhaps Chris needed a reminder of just who Shelton Benjamin was. And tomorrow night's Taboo Tuesday sounded like the perfect venue.

END CHAPTER THIRTEEN

* * *

Author's notes: Finito! Honestly, I feel like this is one of my best chapters yet; I'm extraordinarily happy with the mix of humor and drama.

Now you either got the whole 'Susie' joke or you didn't… I'm hoping that you did, because honestly, I've been dying to do it for a few chapters now. If you did get it, and got offended, I'm sorry. I wasn't poking fun at any _specific_ examples of the genre, just the usual criteria that a character like Susie would have. If you didn't like it, sorry again, but I thought it was hilarious. In fact, my brother wants a repeat performance from the Susie, and there are a few things I could add…. but we'll wait and see what the reviews say.

Speaking of reviews, please do! Oh, and while you're at it, go check out a new fic by KayAKALikWrestleGrl called 'Home is Where the Heart is'; I absolutely love the concept (pardon me while I drool at the thought of Cowboy Chris). Anyway, I hoped you like this chappy, let me know what you think! Until later days people, take care!


	14. Maven?

DISCLAIMER: I do not own Chris Jericho, Shelton Benjamin, or other wrestlers that appear in the following story. They are the property of the actors and actresses that portray them, as well as the WWE.

SPOILERS: Mention of events from 10-25-04 Raw.

* * *

Flowers Can't Keep Secrets

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

Pat Benetar once sang about how love is a battlefield.

Tonight, in the ring, there was no love lost between two specific men.

"You stole my title, rookie," Jericho sneered.

"I did, didn't I?" Shelton countered.

Yes, it was only the Intercontinental Championship, but it was the principal of the thing. Hell, Jericho thought he was getting off easy last Tuesday when his best friend was announced as his opponent, and then the sneaky bastard steals his title!

The match played out like their battle of wits; they would each take turns doing the same move, seeing who was better at it. While Chris sneered about Shelton's inexperience, Shelton stuck with one main barb: Chris's hair.

"You know, this would be easier if you didn't butcher your hair," Shelton gasped as he tried to reverse a headlock.

"You're… just jealous…" Chris grunted as he was flipped around.

"Whatever Goldilocks."

Then it was on to high-flying moves, with Chris gaining the edg- no, advantage- with a well-timed dropkick. He immediately went out to throw the rookie back in the ring.

After all, this kid agreed to a rematch, and a rematch Chris would give him.

They continued to trade moves, neither one gaining a significant advantage. Shelton continued to barb Chris with random comments, but Chris was starting to realize the reason behind Shelton's behavior. An emotion that the man was quite familiar with.

"This is about Randy?" the blond gasped out.

Shelton's eyes flashed fire at the name, and he threw a punch at Chris's mouth.

"You're jealous of freakin' Randy!" Chris exclaimed as they sparred.

"I am not!" the other man roared, thus confirming his guilt.

"Who do I call almost every day?"

"… Me…"

"And who did I trust to help me with the flowers fiasco?"

Shelton grunted as he took a fist to the mouth. "Me."

"You're my best friend, Benj. I'd appreciate it if you wouldn't act like my girlfriend," Chris ended cheekily.

"I'll show you who's a girl," Shelton retorted playfully, feeling as if a weight had been lifted from his shoulders. He still had his best friend; now all he had to do was keep Chris's grubby hands off of HIS title.

* * *

"Looks like they made up," Nidia commented idly as she watched the action on the screen.  
  
Stephanie rose from her seat on the bench and walked towards the door of Chris's locker room. "Hopefully that'll stop his whining." A week of Chris's moans about betrayal and 'anti-friends' had ridden her nerves to the breaking point.  
  
"Where are you going?"  
  
The 'backstage coordinator' (who had taken the night off the moment her ex-husband announced his control of the show) rolled her eyes. "He may have acted like an adult, but he's probably sulking about losing. You coming?"  
  
"Nah. Randy said he was gonna drop by after the match..." she grinned.  
  
The older woman raised an eyebrow, but chose not to comment. If the two youngins wanted to go at it in their friend's locker room, then so be it.  
  
After all, there was more privacy in the janitor's closet down the hall.  
  
With a wave and a goodbye, Stephanie exited the room and walked towards the curtain, planning out her actions. First she would tell him that he was sorry; he would pout but pretend like he benevolently allowed Shelton to win. She'd then make some comment about how she liked him all covered in sweat, which would send his mind into the gutter and, ultimately, make him forget all about his loss.

Before she reached the curtain, however, the presence of her ex-husband threw a wrench in her plans. Wanting to avoid a confrontation (as she had been doing since she started working at Raw again), she stopped and leaned against the men's locker room to patiently wait for her boy toy.  
  
Little did she know that her positioning would prove most helpful; the moment she saw Chris and Hunter exchange words, she turned and opened said door. "Evolution beat-down in the hallway!" she cried inside, keeping her eyes shut. Lord knows she didn't want to see... locker room stuff... hanging out.  
  
As she stepped back, Maven (MAVEN?) immediately flew out the door, followed closely by Chris Benoit (who had his own locker room, but for some reason preferred to be around the guys), Rhyno, and a number of other midcarders. Standing on her tippy toes, she could just see Hunter's scowl as Jericho and the crew stared down his faction.  
  
Her ex-husband's scowl would deepen when he spotted her during Evolution's retreat. Giving him a wave and a smirk, she made sure to bump into his shoulder (a la her boyfriend) as she walked towards the crowd of wrestlers.  
  
Hunter would not like that; and further, he would not forget it.  
  
The Chrises were busy talking strategy as she approached; Jericho's eyes lit up, however, when he caught sight of his girlfriend. "Hey babe, did you see any of that?" he asked, wrapping an arm around her waist.  
  
"I did. It's always nice to see Hunter with his tail between his legs," she responded before leaning up to kiss his cheek. "Sorry about your match."  
  
Jericho shrugged. "Eh, I let the kid win." Christian pranced by behind Steph, causing Jericho to tighten his grip on Stephanie. "I've got bigger fish to fry, right Benoit?"  
  
Benoit nodded stoically.  
  
"Ya see Steph, Benoit and I just decided that we're the ones in charge of Raw tonight, not Evolution." Chris clapped his free hand on the other Chris's back playfully. "We've got some big plans, don't we?"  
  
Another stoic nod from Benoit.  
  
"What kind of plans?"  
  
Chris grinned evilly. "Let's just say that Hunter will literally have a kick-ass time tonight."  
  
Benoit nodded (stoically) in agreement.  
  
Pressing a kiss to her temple, Jericho gently extracted his arm from Stephanie. "Go and relax in my locker room, babe; Benoit and I are going to rally the troops."  
  
Stephanie pouted at the dismissal. "I can't go back; Randy and Nidia are going at it in there!" she whined.  
  
This comment elicited a chuckle from Benoit. Both Jericho and Steph gave him a suspicious look, and he immediately quieted down. "What's so funny?" Steph asked.  
  
"Nothing," Benoit said before going to talk to Rhyno. It wasn't his business to talk about other people; he left that to the resident busybodies.  
  
The said busybodies looked at one another. "What was that about?"

* * *

Shelton was really starting to loathe anything that was (or contained the name) Chris.  
  
As he hobbled through the curtain, he tried to reign in his anger. After all, Chris had already left the ring before Christian bombarded him. After all, he and Chris were finally on level ground.

After all, Chris must have ignored Christian running past him backstage.  
  
Maybe Lilian was right after all. She had hunted him down before the show began, and they had got to talking. She said she couldn't believe that Shelton would be friends with a self-absorbed man like Chris Jericho. She thought he was greedy, and that he would do anything to win the IC title back. Like play innocent about Christian's sneak attack.  
  
Full of conflicting emotions, Shelton stumbled into the rabble of wrestlers, and noticed none other than Chris Jericho at the helm. Keeping to the back, he rubbed his forehead and tried to pay attention.  
  
"...Beyond time to take a stand. I say we take down Evolution tonight, and make them neeeeeeeeeeeeeeeever eeeeeeeeeeeeeever forget who we are!" Benoit nodded beside him as the crowd cheered in agreement.  
  
"So," Jericho continued, "Who's man enough to take on Batista?" He really didn't expect an answer, but to his (and everyone else's) surprise, there was an excited shout.  
  
"ME!" Maven (MAVEN?) yelled, eager for an opportunity to prove himself.  
  
Chris (either one) blinked. "You sure?" Benoit asked gruffly, surprised into speaking.  
  
Maven (once again, MAVEN?!) nodded his head furiously. "Hell yeah I am, Chris Benoit. Evolution is nothing but a big ol' bunch of meanies..."  
  
"Meanies?" Jericho repeated with a snort.

"And I'm not gonna take it anymore! They think I suck, well I'll show them who sucks!" Maven finished, pumping his fist in the air. "I'm gonna make AL SNOW PROUD!"  
  
Far away, in the cafeteria, Rob Conway perked up at the sound of sucking.  
  
Jericho buried his face in Stephanie's hair as he shook with laughter. "Oh man!" he gasped out against her scalp. "Al Snow!"  
  
"Grow up," Stephanie reprimanded (as she was able to push the urge to laugh away). She gave the young man with the perfectly plucked, womanly eyebrows a supportive grin. "If you're sure about this, then you've got it."  
  
"Don't worry Stephanie; I'm going to make you all proud!" Turning towards Benoit and Jericho, his excited face suddenly turned worried. "You guys have to help me with my strategy!" he whispered urgently.  
  
If there was one thing Chris Jericho didn't need, it was to befriend another rookie.  
  
Immediately composed, Jericho grabbed Stephanie's hand and began walking away. "He's all  
yours, Benoit," he called behind his shoulder. Yes, it was cruel, and Benoit would probably beat his ass for it on a later date, but he couldn't handle any more rookie drama.  
  
"That wasn't very nice," Stephanie said as she trailed a hand up Chris's chest. Honestly, she could care less; his meanness was a bit of a turn-on.  
  
Chris grabbed her hand and placed a kiss on her knuckles. "You should know by now that I never play nice."  
  
"Oooh, is that a promise?" Without waiting for an answer, she guided him towards the janitor's closet.  
  
Neither of them had seen Shelton's hurt face, or the way he tried to catch up to them.  
  
The last straw had broken his back; as far as Shelton was concerned, he was done. He was done with being Chris's stupid rookie lackey and putting up with the Canadian's shit. Most importantly, he was done with being Evolution's whipping boy. He nearly chuckled at the thought; with him out of the picture, Chris and Stephanie would have no idea what hit them.  
  
Or rather, who.

END CHAPTER FOURTEEN

* * *

Author's notes: Done and done; not as funny as last week, but hell, look where that got me! Nine nasty e-mails and three IMs threatening to delete my story…. Well lookee who's still here :D

Did everyone see the way Lilian Garcia smiled at Shelton when he got into the ring on Monday night? I was quite pleased; for once, Raw is actually cooperating with my story.

I knew Susie would piss people off (especially since I made her as over-the-top Mary Sue as I could, and then paired her with Edge), but I had no idea I'd get so much hatred! It was eerily satisfying to be able to rile people up like that; then again, I got a lot of positive feedback on her as well, so I'm sure she'll reappear in later chapters :) Anyhow, leave a review and tell me what you think! Until next week, take care! :)


	15. Pink Slip

DISCLAIMER: I do not own Stephanie McMahon, Chris Jericho, or other wrestlers that appear in the following story. They are the property of the actors and actresses that portray them, as well as the WWE.

SPOILERS: Mention of events from 11-01-04 Raw.

NOTE: Lengthy author's notes at end of chapter. Please read!

* * *

Flowers Can't Keep Secrets

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

Hell had frozen over.

Eric Bischoff had grown balls.

Someone had openly admitted that Triple H was nothing without the title

And Maven (MAVEN?) had the opportunity to run Raw.

Stephanie (along with the majority of the Raw crew) was gaping at a television backstage. Initially, her mouth had gone dry at the sight of Dave Batista in that suit (hell, taken or not she could still appreciate a hot bod), but it felt like she had entered the Sahara when Bischoff started talking.

A few pinches to her arm later, and she was sure it wasn't a dream. Maybe that disgusting black hair had suppressed his common sense all of these years.

"Hey baby; what're you watching?" Chris Jericho asked as he came up behind her. A chorus of shhhhhs answered him, and he frowned. "What the hell is this?"

More shh-ing, and this earned him a dark glare from Steph. "Be quiet, doofus! This is important!" she hissed.

Chris wasn't too sure, until he heard about the card for Survivor Series. Forget the match itself and the possibilities it presented; he was mostly intrigued by the idea of his very own Raw.

_He could see it now… lounging on the GM office's leather couch, while Stephanie straddled his lap and fed his grapes. First, he'd put Christian and Tomko in a cage match with Batista and Edge; he'd love to see all four of them destroy each other. Then, he'd force Hunter into a Heavyweight Championship match, where the only stipulation to win was to be victorious in a game of musical chairs. _

Chris was awesome at musical chairs. He was also pretty good at fantasies; but in all honesty, the sky was the limit if his team managed to pull of a victory at Survivor Series.

One thing was for sure: he'd order some grapes tonight from room service and try to get Steph to practice.

* * *

During the announcement, Nidia was walking to Chris's locker room (to drop off her things) when she was accosted by a random girl with a book.

"Hola Senorita!" the girl chirped excitedly. "You must be Nidita; Trish said you looked Mexican."

Nidia's eyes flashed fire, but she refrained from tearing the stupid white girl's head off for the moment. "It's Nidia, actually," she bit out in an attempt to be polite. "Can I help ya with something?"

"Nidia…" the girl repeated slowly. "That's a weird name. Anyways, my boyfriend asked me to go around and tell everyone that his book has finally been published, so you can stop asking him."

The other woman was confused, until she looked down at the book cover and put two and two together. Instantly, she realized that this was the girl that Chris and Stephanie had been talking about all week. "So you're Susie…"

Susie's blue-brown-green eyes reflected her surprise. "How…"

"Forget how," Nidia interrupted quickly. She had been warned about this, and how easily she'd spout out her life story; it was better to be rude and make a quick escape at a critical time like this. "And I'm not all that interested in reading your boyfriend's diary, sorry."

The blonde/brunette grabbed Nidia's arm, effectively keeping her from walking away. "You don't really mean that!" Susie said with a smile as he thrust the book against the other woman's chest. "Just read a little; it's a real page turner!"

Pinned between the wall and the other woman, Nidia sighed. To humor Susie, she flipped open the proffered book to the middle, to a chart simply entitled 'Likes and Dislikes'. It read as follows:

_Likes: wrestling (duh!), the way my voice echoes in an arena, good oral hygiene, girls who scream my name, soda, my mom, sunglasses at night, and tight pleather._

_Dislikes: people who use their real name as their wrestling name, frizzy hair, yearbook photos, girls who think I'm greasy and/or are married, rookies who haven't paid their dues, and ignorant people who haven't realized that I am the savior of wrestling today._

It was odd; as much as Chris Jericho and Edge hated each other, they seemed to share a number of likes and dislikes.

Then again, they both had a tendency to act blond and flaky…. maybe it wasn't so much of a stretch.

Slapping the book shut, Nidia handed the book back to Susie, and without another word, continued walking to Jericho's locker room. After reading that stupid chart, she had felt her IQ drop a few points, and decided to save her intellect by making a silent escape.

And speaking of flaky, there was a certain superstar she needed to talk to later tonight.

* * *

Word spread quickly through the backstage about Edge's new book. Everyone was curious about the contents, but no one was willing to talk to Susie and steal her copy (or worse, have to talk to Edge and inflate his Canada-sized ego).

Down the hallway, two people (which also shared Canada-sized egos) were hatching a plan to steal a copy of the book. Unfortunately, both of them wanted to be the mastermind and not the fall man.

"Look rookie, my plan is full-proof! Just go lay that charm into his girlfriend and I'm sure you can get the book," Chris whined.

"Why do I have to hit on the floozy? I always have to do everything!" Randy retorted, crossing his arms. To date, he had done NOTHING for Chris Jericho; but he doubted the older man would call him on it. "Why can't you just run into Edge hard enough to drop the book? I swear, I'll walk by and pick it up while he's threatening you."

Chris snorted. "That, rookie, is the WORST plan I've ever heard."

"Why?"

"Why? Why? Because if I run into Edge, I'm going to ricochet off of his greasy chest and run face first into the wall. And the last thing my woman wants is an ugly mug on the King of her World."

"Is that so? Then why does she make you wear that paper bag on your head in public, hmmm?" Randy goaded.

"Oh, that's it rookie!" Chris shouted, effectively catching the younger man in a headlock and giving him a noogie. "You're going to need a paper bag after I give you this bald spot!"

"Ahhh! Let go!"

"Hell no! I haven't even broken skin yet!"

"Ooooh, I'm next!" another voice interjected.

Chris froze in his noogy-ing, allowing Randy to wiggle away and stand slightly behind the blond man. "Excuse me, junior?"

Maven (MAVEN?) bounced on his heels and clapped his hands. "I said, I'm next! I've been looking forward to the backstage horseplay that goes on."

"The what?" Randy was glad that he was standing behind Chris, because he was a bit afraid of the overenthusiastic man before them. If the kid wasn't bald and had womanly eyebrows, he could've sworn it was Rob Conway.

"The backstage horseplay. Al said that there was nothing like it!" Maven explained.

"Ugh, kid, word of advice? Stop reminding people that Al Snow is your idol. It's nauseating," Chris advised. After all, that Spanky kid gloated endlessly about being trained by Shawn Michaels, and what did that get him? A ticket in the unemployment line.

Al's protégé shook his head slowly. "Impossible, Chris, since I live my life by this," he said as he held up his hand. Circling his wrist was a black bracelet, adorned by the letters W.W.A.D.

Randy and Chris exchanged looks, both begging the other to ask the obvious question. When Chris sneered with self-imposed authority, Randy sighed and gave in. "Alright Maven, what does it mean?"

Maven grinned happily. "Thought you'd never ask. It means What Would Al Do," he clarified, pointed at the corresponding letter in mime. "It's been the mantra that has guided my career,"

"Right down the toilet," Chris muttered, getting a laugh out of both him and Orton.

Slightly peeved by the laughter (which was odd, considering that he was used to being laughed at by his co-workers), Maven decided that a demonstration of his 'super awesome' mantra was in order. "You think it's funny, Chris?"

"Jericho; only my friends call me Chris, kid. And yeah, I think it's funny."

"Alright then Jericho, then I'm going to prove you wrong. Let's go!"

Chris prepared himself for a fight, but instead saw Maven retreating down the hallway. "What the hell are you doing, kid?" he shouted after him, slightly confused by his behavior.

"What Al would do – confront our opponents in their locker room," Maven called over his shoulder before disappearing around a corner.

Time stood still for a second as both men contemplated this statement.

"I don't think Al Snow would willingly walk into a beat down," Randy finally said.

"I agree, rookie. Let's go save his ass," Chris responded before they rushed after the stupid kid.

* * *

Maven (after unknowingly being saved, and then ditched by Chris and Randy) was idly roaming the hallways looking for Benoit when he saw her: gorgeous blond-brown hair, bluish-hazel eyes, and a brilliantly bright smile. Without knowing her name, age, or other vital information, he was desperately in love. So with a deep breath and a quick smooth-down of his eyebrows, he went to talk to his future wife.

"Hi there!" he greeted with a smile.

Susie looked up from her nails and returned the young man's grin. "Hi… uh, do I know you?"

Realizing that she wasn't a groupie (not that Maven had much experience with groupies; most of the ones he'd met were trying to use him for his free backstage pass), his smile grew and he puffed out his chest a bit. "Well, I am the premier rookie on this roster," he said proudly.

Her brow briefly furrowed with thought; her boyfriend was always complaining about the rookies, especially one in particular. She decided that if her Edgie was the best wrestler on the roster (like he said), then this well-manscaped man had to be that pest. "Oh wow, I've heard so much about you Randy! I'm Susie!" she eagerly said, shaking his head politely.

Maven's face fell. "Oh, I'm not…"

"I mean, wow, it must have been great to have been the World Champion for those few weeks; Edge said that it was a godsend for you to even have had it for so long," Susie continued.

"Well, actually," the young man tried again.

Susie was oblivious to his efforts to correct her. "My honeybuns always said you were this snot-nosed, ugly prick that stole all of his girls."

"Hey!" Maven exclaimed, even though he wasn't the snot-nosed ugly prick in question, and he certainly had never stolen ANY girls.

"He didn't want me to meet you; he had this idea that I would see you and poof, we'd fall in an unrequited love that would hang over my and Edgie's relationship until it dissolved and I could be free to love you," Susie finished with a giggle. Her boyfriend must be delusional; perhaps other girls went for that metrosexual look, but SHE preferred bushy eyebrows and long, shiny (see: greasy) locks.

"But I did! I fell in love with you at first sight, just like you said!" Ran… er, Maven protested, desperately going over his mantra. What Would Al Do! What Would Al Do!

Problem was, Susie was a far cry from Mick Foley or the Big Boss Man.

She patted his arm gently, as if he was a child. "Sorry Randy, but I'm much too busy telling my life story, making new friends, wondering why there is a connection between my love for wrestling and my absent father, and keeping Edgie happy, to have a secret love interest." She gave him a big smile before flipping her long hair over her shoulder and walking towards the cafeteria.

With a tear in his eye and a heavy heart, Maven watched her walk out of his life. He would never regret talking to her; however, it was the happiest two minutes he had ever lived (minus the times he was with Al, of course. Golly gosh, he sure did love spending time with Al).

* * *

While the tag team championship match (see: oil slick) was going on, Nidia was pacing outside of Randy's locker room, mentally rehearsing all the things she wanted to say to him.

The key word here, of course, was say; although she was quite afraid that she'd start crying or yelling at some point.

Things with Randy weren't turning out the way she thought they would have. Yes, they had kissed, but it was always in private. Yes, he would call her, but only after she called him ten times in a row and begged him to call her (which was quite degrading). And yes, he called her 'his girl', but that was missing the key antecedent of 'friend'. Girl-friend.

She would get him to commit tonight, or else. And then she'd drag him over in front of everyone and shove her tongue down his throat, just to gloat a little.

With a deep breath and a nod, Nidia smiled to herself before barging into his locker room. "Randy, we have to talk…"

Randy, however, was busy talking to Gail Kim… and this 'talking' did involve waggling of the tongues and grunting noises.

So Nidia did what any girl would do in her position: destroy the locker room and try to tear the bitch's hair out.

By the time security could pry them apart, both girls were nearly naked and ready to break out the claws. Eric Bischoff's benevolent mood seemed to evaporate when he saw the trashed locker room and was reminded of the Diva search contestants trashing HIS own office.

He had loved that office furniture, and it was cruelly taken away from him…

Without a second thought, both Nidia and Gail Kim were fired, ordered to leave the arena by the end of the show and never come back. And while Nidia quietly accepted her fate, Gail unsuccessfully used her backstage connection to Trish to try and regain her job.

* * *

News of the firing spread even faster than the news about Edge's stupid book.

"Have you heard?" Stephanie yelled as she burst into her boyfriend's locker room. Her eyes narrowed as she caught sight of the other occupant in the room. "Oh, it's YOU," she sneered.

Pulling up his kneepads, Chris grinned to himself and took a seat on the bench. If he knew his girlfriend, this was going to be quite the show.

Randy held up his hands defensively. "Look Steph, I didn't know…"

"Don't you DARE spout those lies to me, Randy Orton," Stephanie interrupted as she strode over to him McMahon style (Vince's cocky walk, minus a bit of the swagger). Bending over at the waist, she growled inches away from the seated rookie's face. "Look me in the eye and tell me you didn't know how she felt."

The young man gulped but maintained eye contact. "Honestly, I didn't know…"

He was cut off as Stephanie slapped the shit out of his face. "Chris was right about you all along, Orton. You are a stupid rookie," she bit out as she straightened and shook the sting out of her hand. "And with Gail Kim, of all people! She's the backstage bicycle; even Ric Flair's had a ride!"

Rubbing his cheek, Randy looked at Chris desperately. "Can't you control your woman man?" he asked a bit cheekily.

Chris grimaced as Stephanie wound up and smacked the young man yet again. "Wrong thing to say, my friend. Definitely the wrong thing."

"You're disgusting," Steph spat as she spun on her heel and faced her boyfriend. Chris immediately shrank under her deathly glare. "And you! You're his friend; did you know about this?"

Chris stood up, hoping that his height advantage would keep her from slapping him. "I swear honey, I thought he had the hots for Nads!"

"Why does everybody think that," Randy lamented as he now rubbed both of his cheeks. "We made out a few times and all of a sudden I'm dating her!"

"Dude, you totally made it sound like you liked her, with all the 'she won't stop calling me, and I love it' and 'I want everything to do with her' bullshit!"

"Dude, I never said that was Nidia! I was talking about Gail!"

"No way!"

"Oh, so way!"

"You're lying!"

"Did I ever say Nidia's name, huh?"

At that moment, Nidia chose to walk into the locker room to retrieve her gym bag. The hesitant smile she had forced on her face slipped away as she saw Randy sitting on one of the benches.

Cursing to himself, Randy stood and took a few steps towards her. "Nidia, listen…"

Stephanie intercepted him within a second, jumping between him and her like a seasoned football cornerback. "Shut your mouth, Orton; who knows what disease that bitch coated your tongue with." Turning around, her feminine instincts (yes, she still had a few) kicked in and she hugged the younger woman. "You ok?" she asked consolingly.

Nidia wasn't ok; she wanted to cry and scream and maybe beg Randy to reconsider (all of which were unacceptable routes of handling the situation). So instead, she nodded slowly and pushed away from Stephanie. "I'm fine, Steph. Ya don't have to be nice to me anymore, remember? I've lost my job."

Stephanie frowned, but gave the girl her space. "I'm know and I'm sorry about that. If you want, I can try and get you a job backstage. It's not glamorous, but it's something," she offered.

To everyone's surprise, Nidia shook her head. "No thanks, Steph. It's pretty obvious that I'm ready to play with the big girls yet. I do that, ya know, chase after things I can't have…" she trailed off uncomfortably as she walked to the corner and picked up her gym bag. "It was nice of you to offer though."

"You should reconsider, Nads. What else are you going to do?" Chris piped up.

She shrugged as she shouldered her bag. "I talked to Lita, and she gave me Jeff Hardy's number. Maybe he can get me a job with NWA, and I could get the experience that I need."

The room fell silent after that. It was obvious that Nidia wanted to cry, and the other three occupants weren't sure of what to do or say. Stephanie's instinct was to hug her again, but she'd already been rebuffed. Chris wanted to provoke her a bit so she could release all of her emotions (a method that he found worked quite well with women). And Randy… well Randy was too afraid of Steph's slap to do or say anything.

In this silence, Nidia felt her resolve slipping, and decided that she'd better leave. "Well, uh, I guess this is goodbye," she choked out as she fidgeted with her bag.

Those words shook Chris out of his thoughts. "Goodbye? You're not dying Nads, so stop being so dramatic," he complained as he rushed over to her and gave her a big hug. "Besides, if you died, who would I call at 3 am to get female advice from?"

Stephanie shrugged and joined in the hugging. "And who would I call at 8 am to apologize about my boyfriend's idiotic behavior?"

Nidia giggled into Chris's shoulder, somewhat glad that she was still needed by her friends. "Great, even when I'm unemployed I'm never going to get any sleep," she deadpanned with a sniffle. Pulling back, she gave the blond man a pleading look. "Do me a favor?"

"Anything for you, sweetcheeks," he replied, pinching her cheek in mime and earning a warning glare from his girlfriend for touching another female.

"Talk to Shelton. Something's going on with him, and I'm worried about him."

Chris scowled; he had tried calling Shelton all week, but the young man had not returned any of his calls. "Easier said that done, Nads; he's been ignoring me for days."

"Just try; you're his best friend," Nidia begged.

Buckling under the pressure of Nidia's pleading eyes and Stephanie's death glare, Chris gave in. "Alright, alright; I'll set Benji straight, but you're going to owe me big time Nads," he conceded.

Nidia mustered a grin. "I'll bring the Jack Daniels," she joked, getting a chuckle out of everyone, including Randy. Her eyes instantly fluttered over to the Legend Killer, and she found herself blinking back tears. "Uh, I'd better go."

"Alright," Chris said as he and Steph led her to the door. Both had caught sight of her impending tears, but decided not to press the issue. "Give us a call later on, alright?"

She nodded. "You guys take care, alright?" she said before her eyes fell back on Randy. His miserable face reminded her of Shelton, and despite everything that had happened, she found herself taking pity on the young man. "You too, Randy."

Randy wanted to return the favor, but he found himself unable to speak. With her glistening eyes and wobbly chin, his friend (well, former friend) had never looked so beautiful.

His silence was a shot to the gut. Thoroughly disappointed, Nidia finally blinked, allowing the tears to fall. Without another word, she opened the door and rushed out into the hallway, leaving her friends and her broken heart in the hands of her crush.

Once the door shut, both Chris and Stephanie turned to glare at him. "You idiot," Stephanie hissed.

"Moron."

Randy knew they were right. Eric Bischoff had made a mistake in firing her, but he had made a bigger mistake in letting her go.

END CHAPTER FIFTEEN

* * *

Author's notes: I was just putting the finishing touches on this chapter last Wednesday when I received this nasty IM (name has been changed out of respect):

Randumbedgefangurl: Hahaha, nidia got fired. now yur storys reaLly sux!

While I am used to shrugging off these mean messages these days, this one left me speechless, and not because of the random capital 'L' in really. My anxiety grew after I checked the WWE website and confirmed the person's message to be true.

Nidia is gone. And with that, the major storyline for this sequel.

To be honest, I don't know what I am going to do. It was easy enough to write her out of this chapter (I set up the cheating Randy scenario awhile ago, but never planned on using it) but now that she's gone, I've lost my direction for this story. Sure, I could continue to make fun of Edge and Susie and Maven, but that'll lose its flavor. I could create some drama between Chris and Steph, but it'll be jarring and out of synch with the rest of the series (their relationship has been my only constant thus far, and I'd like to keep it that way). The Shelton drama is still there, but Nidia's involvement was integral.

What I'm driving at, dear readers, is that the future of this story is unclear. I want to continue it, don't get me wrong, but I also want to keep it real and funny, and I'm not sure if I can do that anymore. And unfortunately, I'm not as talented as Nina or other writers who can go with the flow and still come out with an amazing product. So for now, I apologize for the lateness and the choppy-ness of this chapter (since I had to do a major rewrite after Wednesday), and I hope you enjoyed what I got. And as for the next update, who knows? Maybe Vince'll be benevolent and throw me a bone Monday night. Until next time (whenever that may be), take care.


	16. Lucky

DISCLAIMER: I do not own Shelton Benjamin, Chris Jericho, or other wrestlers that appear in the following story. They are the property of the actors and actresses that portray them, as well as the WWE.

SPOILERS: Mention of events from 11-09-04 Raw.

DEDICATION: To Jodi and Kay, whose e-mails ended my self-pity and gave me the kick in the pants I needed. Thanks guys :)

* * *

Flowers Can't Keep Secrets

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

A famous songwriter once lamented that one is the loneliest number.

Usually Shelton didn't go for that honky crap, but right about now he was ready to belt out the lyrics in his empty locker room. He hadn't talked to anyone since last week, and that was a brief conversation with Lilian about Nidia….

She was gone, and her departure only made his betrayal that much more painful.

Didn't she understand that he didn't have a choice; that by hurting her, he was protecting her from further physical harm? Didn't she ever wonder why her beatings from Trish and Tomko had suddenly vanished?

Didn't she realize that he had sold his soul to the one man who would never return it whole?

* * *

Rumors (especially those that mar the image) have a certain way of lighting a fire under Canadians.

As soon as the show began, Chris Jericho sought out Chris Benoit, angry as all hell. Spotting the toothless man by the curtain, he stomped over and scowled.

Benoit glanced at the other man and sighed internally, wondering why he was forced to be cordial to such a shallow person. "Something wrong?" he asked gruffly, returning his attention to the television screen.

Chris huffed. "You bet your ass something's wrong! Why the hell is everyone calling us Team Orton?"

"Sounds better than Team Maven, I suppose," Benoit deadpanned (which, actually, was his normal speaking tone. More often than not people mistook his words as sarcasm, leading to misunderstandings and feuds galore).

"Team Maven!" Jericho spat out in disgust. "I cannot believe this… how did I, the first Undisputed Champion, the King of the World, and the Sexiest Beast of a man end up on this terrible team of rookies?"

Benoit growled, causing the egotistical man to jump. "I'm no rookie."

Chris backtracked at the sight of an angry Benoit; after all, no need for his teammate to slap him in a cross face before Survivor Series. "Heh heh… I meant 'we'. How did 'we' end up on this terrible team of rookies?"

"Technically, Jericho, I'm not a rookie," Maven interjected as he walked towards his teammates.

"That's Mr. Jericho to you," Chris corrected with an eye roll. "And until you prove yourself backstage, you'll always be a rookie, Rookie."

The well-manicured young man nodded slowly. "I see… Al didn't mention that, but I'll take your word for it, Mr. Jericho."

"Mr. Jericho, sir."

"Right; Mr. Jericho, sir," Maven quickly amended with a smile. Gosh, but he was surely happy about his friendship with Chr-er, Mr. Jericho!

The group fell silent as they watched the duration of the match (aka the Randy Orton pummel-a-thon), only to be shocked into speaking when their teammate pulled out a victory over the giant Batista. They gave their congratulations to Randy once he joined them backstage, but were rudely interrupted by a violent Batista.

While Randy and both Chrises were not surprised by the attack, and therefore were able to throw in some offense, Maven's inexperience came back to haunt him as Batista's elbow smashed him in the nose.

* * *

Stephanie was enjoying a quiet moment in her janitor's closet/office when her headset buzzed to life on the desk. Groaning, she held to her face and hit a switch on the battery pack. "Yes?"

"Ms. McMahon, we've had a fight down by curtain and Mr. Bischoff has requested that you take care of it."

"Fine," she snipped into the microphone, angry that her night was probably going to suck because of some stupid overbearing wrestlers.

Of course, she didn't expect to run into the stupidest, most overbearing of them all as she flew out of her office.

"Excuse me," she said as she pushed herself off of her ex-husband and tried to continue on her way.

Hunter, being the asshole that she knew he was, couldn't resist the opportunity to badger his ex-wife. "Nice office, Steph. Maybe you can mop up Evolution's locker room after the show," he snickered.

Feeling the ol' fire down her spine at Hunter's voice caused her to freeze in her tracks. If he wanted to bring out the bitch in her, well, it was on like Donkey Kong. "That's odd; I thought it was Flair that was pissing all over your locker room floors." Pasting on a fake sympathetic look, she patted him on the shoulder. "And all those years we spent together you were calling them wet dreams…"

When his face turned purple, she knew she had hit the jackpot, and that she had little time before he would try and wring her neck. So with a smirk and another pat, she danced away from his groping hands and scurried down the hallway, leaving Hunter to his fuming.

Her lifted spirits quickly melted away as she finally reached the curtain and spotted her boyfriend amongst those restrained. Guessing that Batista had started the uproar (since he was flinging referees left and right and screaming nonsense), she used her headset to call for backup security and walked over to the men that were holding Chris down. "Let him go, guys," she ordered.

"But Ms. McMahon, he'll go after…"

"Not while I'm here," she interrupted. Begrudgingly, the two men released their hold on Chris and went to go help with Batista.

"It's about time, baby. Those penguins were creasing my shirt," Chris joked. His smile faded as he caught sight of the annoyed look on her face. "What?"

"What have I told you about starting trouble with Batista?"

"C'mon babe, I am fighting him on Sunday! I HAVE to start trouble!" Chris rolled his eyes, annoyed at his overprotective girlfriend.

"Fine, start trouble. Get another concussion and see if _I_ feel sorry for you!" Lifting her chin in the air, she walked away from him and towards another huddle of referees who were exclaiming about blood. "What's the problem here?"

"This one's bleeding," was her answer. With mild concern that one of her boyfriend's teammates was seriously hurt (and thus, put Chris at a greater risk of concussion), she pushed her way through the crowd and stopped in front of the injured man.

What she found was Maven, sitting on the ground with blood dripping from his nose. The young man looked up at her with glassy eyes and showed him his red-stained fingers. "I dink iz bwoken."

Meet the average man: a creature who puts himself at risk for injury time and again, but in reality is a closet hypochondriac who will call the common cold pneumonia. Or in this case, a simple bloody nose a broken one.

Clicking her tongue like a mother hen, Steph crouched down in front of him and poked the bleeding appendage carefully. "Does that hurt?" she asked.

"Ewewyting huwts!" he responded.

"Well, it doesn't look broken, kid," she responded after another poke. Pinching his nostrils together, she used her other hand to tip his head back. "Lean back so we can stop the bleeding, and then you can see the trainer."

Maven looked at her pitifully, but kept any further whining to himself. Deep down, he was enjoying the motherly attention (just like any average man would). "Tank woo."

"What the hell is this?" Chris exclaimed as he, Benoit, and Randy pushed themselves through the crowd. "Don't tell me that you got hurt, kid."

"Sowwy Mwister Jehwico."

"This is just great," Randy spat out. "How are we supposed to win on Sunday if you get hurt by a single elbow to the face?"

"Oh, I'm sure you'll mess it up anyway, just like you did with Nidia," Stephanie retorted. She still hadn't forgiven Randy for his rendezvous with Gail Kim, and marked it off to his former mentor's influence.

All four men looked at her quizzically, confused by her sudden catty behavior. "Did I miss something?" Chris asked as Steph's eyes shot daggers at Randy.

"Forget it."

And they did, since none of them really could confess to understanding women all that well.

* * *

To say he was distracted was an understatement.

Shelton wasn't sure how he won his match against Tomko, considering that he was thinking about his situation the entire time. And when your head wasn't in the game, you were more likely to make a stupid mistake and get seriously hurt (read: Edge's entire career). So while he cleaned up, he made the snap decision to involve a third party on his problem and get some advice.

The problem was that the backstage was slim pickings for good advice. Jericho and Stephanie were automatically out. Benoit wasn't much of a talker. The Hurricane and Rosey were delusional. Tajiri didn't speak English, and Rhyno was… well, scary. Lilian would have worked, except that she was ringside at the current moment.

That left him with only one option, and he hated to use it.

"Hey man," Randy greeted. Opening his door wider, he allowed Shelton to walk into his locker room. "Good job against Tomko."

Shelton waved off the praise. "He might be big, but he's still pretty green." Taking a seat on a bench, he motioned for Randy to sit down. "I think we're long overdue for a talk, Orton."

Catching the other man's serious vibe, Randy nodded and sat as well. "Is this about Hunter?"

"It's about everything."

* * *

Chris Jericho's locker room had never been so devoid of rookies.

"Now this is what I'm talking about," he said to no one in particular as he kicked up his feet on a table. His interview with Lita and Trish was only minutes away, but he had no plans on moving until then.

Leave it to a McMahon to ruin it all.

"Chrissykins, what are you doing?" Stephanie shrieked as she burst into his room. "The video packages are almost over, and the Highlight Reel is next!"

He cracked open an eye at her. "I've still got five minutes, babe. And maybe I'm enjoying the peace and quiet in here for once."

Steph shook her head. "God, you already sound like an old man."

Chris stuck out his lower lip and pouted. "Sure, make fun of me because I'm turning 34 tomorrow. I'm not exactly robbing the cradle either."

Earlier, it was mentioned that he didn't understand women; his comment was a demonstration of his naivety.

"Are you calling me old, Jericho?" Stephanie asked, her lovely face crumpled up in anger. "Because I doubt you have any place to talk!"

"Please, Steph, I'm only six years older than you! You have no right to point the finger at me when the big 3-0 is creeping up on you."

Stephanie (like most women) shuddered at the mere thought of turning thirty. With the wind knocked out of her sails, she gave him a pitiful look. "Do I look that old?"

"Nah, I'd say you're more Moolah than Mae Young," Chris jabbed gleefully, not realizing that the time for banter was over.

"You… you… asshole!" Stephanie fumed before running into the bathroom and locking the door.

Chris's victory smile slipped off his face as he gazed at the bathroom. "Aw, babe, don't be pissy! I was just teasing!" he called from his seat.

There was no response from her.

Pushing himself out of his chair, he walked to the door and knocked. "Did you hear me? I said I was just kidding!"

Stephanie (who was busy inspecting for crow's feet in the mirror) sneered at the door's reflection. "Oh yeah, really funny to compare me to those two old bats. What's next, the Cryptkeeper?"

"Nah, that title's reserved for Sable." He heard her snicker and breathed a sigh of relief. "Now will you come out of there and walk me to the curtain? I'd like to show off my beautiful, young girlfriend to the backstage monkeys."

"You forgot intelligent," Stephanie replied as she opened the door with a small smile. He always knew how to sweet-talk her, even after pressing her buttons."

"Of course, how utterly stupid of me," he said as he took her hand and led her out of his locker room. "How did I ever end up with such a beautiful, young, intelligent girl on my arm?"

"You're just lucky, I guess." Her smile grew as she tugged on his hand.

He looked down and became a bit nervous at her large grin. "What?"

"Speaking of getting lucky…" she trailed off, waggling her eyebrows.

He gave her a confused look before making the connection. "Are you serious?" he squeaked as his jaw dropped open.

"Happy Birthday."

Chris Jericho may have been turning 34 the next day, but he suddenly felt like a giddy teenager. Grabbing her hand tighter, he began running down the hallway with her in tow.

"Hey! Why are we running?" she shouted as she tried to keep up.

He smiled back at her. "Because it's midnight on the East Coast baby, and I can't wait to open my present!"

* * *

"That is sick," Randy said as he rubbed his temples.

"I know."

"I didn't know it was this bad. Hunter made us think we were targeting you because you beat him."

Shelton laughed, but it was lifeless and hollow. "Funny, I'm not all that surprised."

"You have to tell her, you know."

Shelton's brow furrowed. "Why? Nidia's out of danger now."

Randy gave him a stern look. "You know who I'm talking about, Shelton." He ran a hand across his scalp, trying to calm his own nerves and rid himself of the images that Shelton's words had provoked. "God, she's going to kill you."

"I know." _And I deserve it_, he thought to himself.

He may have successfully protected Nidia, but in the process, he had fed Stephanie to the wolves.

END CHAPTER SIXTEEN

* * *

Author's notes: Well, if you haven't guessed already, I've decided to continue the story. I want to thank everyone for their supportive reviews and e-mails that swung me in the right direction. Seriously, you're all awesome, and I can only hope that I don't fail y'all :)

Next question: why did I wait until Monday to post? Simple: I went to Survivor Series and was basically distracted all week by the thought of going. It was awesome, minus the fact that my sign was confiscated at the door… bastards. It was two poster boards big, and it said "Edge: 2001 King of the Ring; 2004 King of Greasy Hair." They said it was too big; I just think they took it because of what happened at the bookstore…

What happened at the bookstore, you ask? Well, last Friday, Edge was signing copies of his book there, and I decide to be a smartass and go. I get in line (which was huge, by the way; stupid redneck Edge fans) and wait for awhile until this security guard comes up to me and asks where my book is. Apparently, Edge only wanted to sign his book (although I heard he was signing other things later on). So I show the guard what I brought: a can of Crisco. Needless to say, I got into some heated words with said guard, and was escorted out of the store lol. I did, however, give him the can and asked him to give it to Edge 'for Sunday'. I like to think that he got it, and made that stupid confused monkey face before tossing it in the trash. One can dream, right?

I've babbled long enough, I think. I could go on and on about Survivor Series, and how I SWEAR Chris Jericho looked at me (I was sitting in the second row of the lower level, and screaming Y2J during the majority of his match), but I'll save it. I hope this Nidia-free chapter was OK, and I look forward to the reviews. Until later days, people, take care :)


	17. Bee Gee

DISCLAIMER: I do not own Maven, Chris Jericho, or other wrestlers that appear in the following story. They are the property of the actors and actresses that portray them, as well as the WWE.

SPOILERS: Mention of events from 11-15-04 Raw, as well as 2004 Survivor Series.

* * *

Flowers Can't Keep Secrets

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

Well, one could tell by the way he used his walk that he was the new GM, no time to talk.

Maven hummed to himself as he strolled through the hallways of the arena; no, HIS arena. Last night he had put his neck on the line for his team, and was rewarded for his efforts by running Raw the very next day.

(Actually, Maven's head injuries were skewing the truth. While his teammates were proud of the fact that he was able to participate in the match, they did not reward him with the first GM job. Rather, fearing that Maven would cause irrevocable damage at his first taste of power, they decided to let him go first in order to fix any issues that the young man would cause. And they knew that by letting him go the next night, there was no way Al Snow could fly out to assist; and for that, they were all thankful).

Screwed-up facts or not, though, Maven was ready to make an impact. He had decided on his way to the arena that he would devote the night to totally awesome matches, like a lingerie pillow fight between Stacy and Christy. A tag match that reunited Edge and Christian (because when together, they did indeed reek of awesomeness). And a heavyweight title match between himself and Triple H.

Maybe that last one was only awesome to him… but he didn't care. Al did whatever his heart desired, and tonight he would do the same.

Glancing at his W.W.A.D. bracelet, Maven grinned before continuing down the hallway. He could feel the city breakin' and everybody shakin' already.

* * *

After being dropped off by his limo (a treat from his doting girlfriend), Chris Jericho skipped (in a manly sort of way, of course) through the backstage hallways of the arena. His lightened step was partially due to his team's victory last night at Survivor Series, but mostly had to do with something else.

He was getting laid, and his friends weren't.

Sure, the only contact he had with Shelton was via Shelton's voicemail (which, by the way, the guy really needed to change; he sounded like a total doof). Nidia had moved back in with her parents until she found another job. And Randy was probably having wild sex with the entire backstage female population (he trained the kid well), but this was different.

He wasn't just having wild sex; he was having meaningful, precious, emotional sex with a rather kinky Stephanie McMahon, and it was awesome.

Slightly aroused by just the thought of her, Chris quickened his pace to his distant locker room. He hoped to find his girlfriend waiting inside. Alone. Preferably naked.

In front of the door, he skidded to a halt, his hand reaching out towards the knob.

A female moan coming from inside froze his forward movement. He knew that voice…

"Ohhhh…. you're amazing," Stephanie cooed in his dressing room.

In that moment, Chris's upbeat mood evaporated quickly into anger. How dare that bitch two time him in his own dressing room! He should go in there and kick the crap out of the dude! He should go in there and ring her neck!

"Oooooh yeah, right there."

He pressed his ear closer to the door, both sickened and turned on by Steph's moans. Random perverted scenarios raced through his mind, ranging from oral pleasure from the Nature Boy (stomach-turning) to an erotic tryst with Trish (stomach turning, and yet incredibly hot).

"Randy…"

Chris gasped; did she just call out his friend's name?

"Dammit, I hate you Randy…" Steph purred, her tone implying the exact opposite of her words.

The anger came back with a vengeance. If Randy wanted to be the backstage gigolo, that was fine; Stephanie, however, was HIS customer! With a shout, he flung open the door and rushed into the room, immediately tacking the kneeling Randy Orton.

"You bastard!" Chris yelled as he threw a punch. He then caught sight of a fully clothed, shocked looking Stephanie sitting beside them on a chair.

If they were going at it, then how come her clothes were still on?

Oh well; he'd figure it out later after he killed the rookie.

* * *

His life was going nowhere, somebody help him.

Somebody help him, yeah.

After ten minutes of being unable to find his luxurious office, Maven was starting to get peeved. He had asked countless technicians for directions, only to be sent to the door to the parking garage again and again.

If he didn't' know better, he would say that they were playing with him on purpose. But since he was generally oblivious about deceitful behavior, he brushed it off as human error. Al always said that most people couldn't find their way out of a paper bag.

As he walked (unknowingly) towards the arena exit yet again, he caught sight of the beautiful Susie hanging out in the hallway up ahead. Boy, but she did sure did love to hang out in plain sight, making it extremely easy for interesting scenes to happen!

Remembering his last embarrassing confrontation, Maven nearly turned around. However, his feet were bringing him closer to her, as if he was a mosquito flying towards the bug zapper.

Thinking her boyfriend had come to retrieve her, Susie turned to her right with a smile; however, it turned out only to be that odd metrosexual boy from a few weeks ago. The one who thought he was Randy Orton. "Oh, hi Maven," she greeted, her smile fading.

Maven's jaw dropped open; she knew his actual name! It had to be destiny. "Hi Susie!" he squeaked. "How are you?"

Her face took on a troubled look. "I'm alright," she said unconvincingly.

"Susie…" Maven trailed off, tipping her chin up to look in her blue-hazel eyes. "What's wrong?"

The way her lip trembled would make Susan Lucci proud. "Well, a few days' ago I went home to see my Mama, because she said she had something important to tell me. Something about my absent father. But, when she started talking she had a massive heart attack and had to go to the hospital." An absent tear ran down her cheek as she looked away. "I felt terrible leaving her, but Edgie said that the doctors could take care of her, but who would take care of him at night?"

"Aww, Susie," Maven cooed, going to pull her into a hug.

Their tender moment was interrupted by none other than her boyfriend. "What do you think you're doing?!" Edge shouted as he strode between them and tore Susie away. "First you ruin my chances at running Raw and getting what's rightfully mine, and now you're taking what's rightfully mine!"

Susie could have taken the initiative to explain the situation, but she kinda liked the idea of her possessive boyfriend beating the crap out of the weirdo. So instead, she silently wrapped her arms around him and leaned her head on his (thankfully dry) chest.

Pasting on a confident façade, Maven straightened his spine and growled at Edge. "I think you're forgetting who's in charge tonight, Edge."

Edge shook his head in amusement, causing his stringy blond locks to fly about his face. "Is that supposed to be intimidating? Am I supposed to be afraid?" he said with a chuckle. "What are you going to do Maven; put me in a match against you?"

Maven crossed his arms defiantly. "Nah, I'm fighting Triple H for the title. You'll be teaming with Christian."

Anger exploded across the tall Canadian's face. "You put me in a match with my little brother?" he all but screamed at Maven. "I don't want to tag with that little dork!"

"And I don't want to tag with this big doofus!" Christian chimed in as he strolled up to the trio. "How can I be Captain Charisma if I've got the Duke of Douchebags here as my partner?"

Edge sneered, pushing Susie towards Maven as he got into Christian's face. "If I'm the Duke of Douchebags, then you're the Baron of Bedwetters."

Christian's face turned bright red. "Mom said you couldn't talk about that anymore!" he whined as he pushed his brother into the wall.

"Then why don't you tattle, Tattletale!" Edge retorted, pushing him back. And with that parry, the two began to fight as if it was 1985 all over again.

Maven briefly watched the scuffle before turning to the girl beside him. "You wouldn't happen to know where the GM office is?" he asked.

Susie squinched up her face in thought, before pointing in the direction of the parking garage. "Thata way."

* * *

Like Susie, Stephanie was also watching her boyfriend physically attacking another man. However, she found it rather amusing, and did not take any measure to stop it.

The brawling probably would have continued well into the show if Shelton hadn't walked by and heard the commotion from within. At first, he feared that it would be freaking sexual action between Stephanie and Chris (because yes, even though he hadn't talked to Chris in weeks, Chris still felt the need to leave him a message about the joyous event), but was relieved to see Chris choking Randy out on the floor. Setting his belt on a nearby table, he walked over and stood above the two men, clearing his throat.

Chris looked over his shoulder, only to scowl at his usually absent friend. "What the hell do you want Benji? I'm busy!"

"Busy… putting… me to sleep…" Randy gasped underneath him with a mock yawn.

Shelton sighed; gone for weeks and it was still a madhouse in the Jericho locker room. Glaring at the giggling Stephanie, he reached down and grabbed Chris by the ear, hauling him to his feet. "I think that's enough, Jericho, considering he won the match for you last night."

"OW! Let go of me!" Chris shrieked as he struggled to get free. "And he couldn't have won without us!"

"I'm with Shel on this one," Randy said as he stuck his tongue out at the blond man.

With a final tweak Shelton let the blond man go. "Mind telling me why you were pounding the crap out of him?"

Chris blinked, suddenly remembering his motives. "Son of a bitch," he growled before pouncing on Randy once again. Stephanie burst out into another set of giggles, and Shelton frowned at the scuffle at his feet.

A madhouse didn't even begin to explain this.

Shelton decided to try a different tactic this time around. "Steph, what is going on?" he asked as he turned to the seated woman.

Stephanie looked at the rookie and shrugged. "Beats me, rookie. One minute Randy here was rubbing my feet; the next, Chrissykins was beating the pulp out of him."

That caught Chris's attention. "Rubbing your feet?" he repeated as he tried to wiggle out of a body scissors.

Steph nodded, lifting her sock-less left foot in the air and wiggling her toes at the tussling men.

"I was sick of her yelling at me," Randy grunted as he squeezed his legs harder. "And you said that it was the best way to get back on her good side."

"You're not there yet," Steph mumbled. The foot massage hadn't been good enough to make her forget about what a jerk he was.

"Oh." Chris's anger dissipated somewhat, although he was still a bit irritated that his friend was feeling up his girlfriend's foot. He ceased struggling, and tapped on Randy's thigh. "Will you let me go kid, before I ralph on your legs?"

Seeing that the other man wasn't going to attack him again, Randy obliged. "What, so you're not going to apologize?"

"Don't push it."

Shelton groaned; reminding everyone in the room that he was, in fact, still there. "If you are done being retarded, I'll be leaving now."

"Whatever," Chris sniped, angry about all his unreturned phone calls. "See you next month, Benji."

Seeing that her entertainment for the evening was over, Steph also decided to put in her two cents. "Shelton, I know why you've been avoiding us," she stated matter-of-factly.

The young man audibly gulped, then gave Randy the evil eye. "Is that right?" he replied shakily. If Orton blew the whistle on him, he was going to blow his whistle (in a totally heterosexual way, of course).

She nodded, a smirk playing across her features. "It's obvious; you are jealous of Chris and me."

"Excuse me?" Shelton asked.

"Come again?" Chris questioned.

Randy just snorted from his position on the floor. And that woman had the nerve to call HIM conceited.

"It's a typical male reaction," Steph explained. "Shelton was pining away for Nidia just around the same time you were pining away for me, Chrissy…"

"Hey now, I wasn't exactly…" Chris's objection was cut off by a glare from his girlfriend. A glare that would make a certain bedtime activity quite unlikely. "Oh, yeah. Pining. Couldn't eat a thing."

"Whipped," Randy coughed into his hand, causing his blond friend to snarl.

"Like I was saying," Steph continued, "You both had crushes. Chris and I ended up together and happy, while you and Nidia, well… ended. So naturally, every time you see us together you are reminded of your failure," she finished with a confident smile.

The men exchanged looks, deciding on how to handle this. With Chris dating said female in question, however, and Randy trying to get on better terms with her, the answer became obvious: patronize, patronize, patronize. "Ooooh, I get it," Randy said simply.

"Wow babe, I'm impressed," Chris declared.

Shelton's eye twitched momentarily as he suppressed his anger. It was bad enough that he had screwed things up with Nidia; it was worse when his friends agreed with him and called the whole ordeal 'a failure'.

As it had been proven before (see: punching a brick wall bloody), failure wasn't something that Shelton dealt with well. He wanted to go off on the smug looking female that sat before him, but kept his sharp tongue at bay. He already caused her enough trouble; never mind that she didn't know a thing about it. So with a sigh and a mental shake, he forced himself to nod. "I guess. I'm sorry I was acting like such a jerk," he bit out.

Randy gave him a look but kept his comments to himself. It wasn't his place to reveal Shelton's secrets… at least, not until Stephanie's well-being was threatened (which, thankfully, hadn't happened yet).

"Apology accepted!" Chris said as he leapt to his feet and clapped his once-again best friend on the back. "I've missed ya Benji; out of all the rookies here, you're the coolest."

"Hey!" Randy objected, getting the distinct feeling that he'd been grouped with Maven. And dammit, he was cooler than MAVEN!

"Gee, thanks," Shelton said, a bit uncomfortable at the praise. It would take some getting used to, being close with Chris and Steph again; and yet, he secretly liked the idea of having his friends back.

"Steph, could you put your sock back on?" Randy asked suddenly.

"Why? Do my feet smell or something?" Steph huffed loudly. "Chrissy, tell him my feet don't smell!"

Chris sighed before putting on a 'boyfriend' glare for Randy. "Her feet don't smell, Randalf," he stated in a monotone.

"I didn't say her feet smelled. It's just that her bare feet are kinda turning me on," Randy admitted sheepishly. Rubbing a woman's feet was one thing; it was quite another when the woman was pretty, got regular pedicures, and moaned openly during the act.

"Tell me you did not just say that!" Chris said as he whirled around and glared at the rookie on the floor.

"I didn't…"

Randy didn't get to finish, as Chris decided to punch him in the gut some more as punishment. Luckily, the kid only had a match with the Coach on his agenda tonight; his thrice beatings by Jericho would not cause too much of a hindrance.

Steph looked at Shelton with a grin, gesturing to the chair beside her. "Have a seat, rookie," she offered.

Have a guilt trip was more like it, Shelton thought to himself.

END CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

* * *

Author's notes: Uh, I'm really sorry guys - I'm pretty oblivious to the update schedule for this site. This chapter was ready by Sunday afternoon.... I swear :P Anyway, I hope you liked this chapter; I am happy with it. I really liked how my Christian-Edge scene worked out… as some of you know, I am terrified of writing Christian (he's so complicated!), and have avoided putting him into the story until now. Oh, and if you didn't get the whole 'Stayin' Alive' theme, my apologies; as soon as I saw Maven walking down the hallways, with that shirt half unbuttoned and that cocky smirk, all I could think of was John Travolta in _Saturday Night Fever._ Blame my lame sense of humor :)

Please review, give me your opinions; and who knows? Maybe next time, Shelton will finally spill the rest of those remaining beans (hey, with Chris not being the GM for a whole another week, there is that possibility). Until then, take care my friends :)


	18. Beans

DISCLAIMER: I do not own Stephanie McMahon, Shelton Benjamin, or other wrestlers that appear in the following story. They are the property of the actors and actresses that portray them, as well as the WWE.

SPOILERS: Mention of events from 11-22-04 Raw.

DEDICATION: To Jodi, who told me that she would never give me a bad review. Here's hoping you don't change your mind :D

* * *

Flowers Can't Keep Secrets

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

While employees in the WWE are generally used to the random occurrences backstage, there are those scenarios that leave them wondering if they were having a psychotic episode. Stephanie McMahon, with her position as a glorified technician, had the unfortunate job of listening to the wack-job stories.

"So you're telling me that Trish Stratus, clad on only a towel and her face guard, tried to come on to you in your locker room?" Steph repeated in disbelief.

Wiping his sweaty forehead, Shelton nodded. "Yeah, until your father came in and started talkin' nonsense about me being hopelessly attracted to blonde Canadians. Then she jumped on him."

Steph wrinkled her nose at the imagery. "My father?"

"Yeah."

"And Trish?"

"Yeah."

She leaned forward to place her hand on his forehead. "You're a bit warm. Hallucinations are common with fever, ya know."

Shelton frowned, giving her an imploring look. "You think I'm crazy, don't you?"

"I've always thought you were a bit off," she replied coquettishly. "At least now I've got the proof. Maybe you should take the night off and rest up."

"I'm not taking the night off!" the young man said loudly, startling her. "What's so crazy about all this?"

"First, my father isn't here tonight. Second, Trish Stratus came on to you. And third, you've been exposed to Hunter's little mind games. That'll make anyone crazy," Stephanie listed, ticking off her fingers as she spoke.

Shelton gaped. She knew? How did she know? Why wasn't she strangling him yet? "Wh-wh-what was that about Hunter?" he squeaked.

"That he was screwing with your mind. That's what Nidia said, anyway, after you went off on her," Steph said, her attention returning to the paperwork before her. "What was the deal with that, anyway?"

When there was no immediate answer, she looked up to find that Shelton had vacated the catering area.

"Crazy rookies," she grumbled to herself.

* * *

Whether she was part of Shelton's hallucination or not was uncertain; currently, Trish was fully clothed and lounging in her boyfriend's locker room, listening to him bitch yet again about his brother. 

"I still can't believe that he attacked me after the match! Me!" Christian whined as he stomped his foot.

"Me neither baby," Trish sighed as she filed her nails.

The blond man was completely unaware of her disinterest. "And then he starts screaming that I'm the reason he didn't get the heavyweight title! Like I even cared to vote for that match!"

Tomko grunted softly; he has seen his boss vote for Shawn Michaels that night, but he wasn't about to correct him. Or remind him that he had a poster of Shawn Michaels hanging up in his house.

"You're better off without him baby," Trish cooed. Finishing with her left hand, she tossed the nail file aside and gave her boyfriend a pout. "Christian, do I look pretty?"

Christian stopped in his tracks and gave her a scathing look. "Is that all you can think about at a time like this? My own flesh and blood attacked me last week, and you want me to shower you with complements? Women!" he complained.

That riled her up good and proper. "Well, sorry for trying to talk about myself for once!" she huffed. "Look at me! I look like… I look like…" she trailed off, trying to think of an acceptable comparison.

"Marsha Brady?" Tomko offered, only to receive two death glares from his companions.

"Who said you could talk?" Trish said.

"Better yet, who said you could try to be funny?" Christian added, going to sit beside his lovely girlfriend. "We hired you to be a one-dimensional bodyguard, not to be Mr. Clowns-Around."

"Yeah," Trish echoed, snuggling into Christian's shoulder (or at least attempting to; her mask did impede her snuggling ability).

Their one dimensional bodyguard sighed, falling back into his role of 'constantly angry guy'. "So, who are we going after today?" he mock-growled.

"Shelton," Christian replied. "Unless Triple H contacts us."

Trish rolled her eyes. "Ugh, I hope not. The last thing I want to do is pretend to salivate all over Chris Jericho."

Christian looked at her critically, wondering if she could seduce ANYONE in that silly mask. "Look at it this way babe; you can pretend he's a much less awesomer version of me," he offered.

"I can hardly wait," she deadpanned.

* * *

Shelton, after running away from Stephanie, soon found himself hiding out (where else?) in Chris Jericho's locker room. He knew that he had to tell her, tell everyone actually, about what was going on; however, he couldn't quite muster the cajoles to bring up the subject. Especially when the blond Canadian was going to go psycho on him. 

"We need to talk," Chris said suddenly, causing Shelton to jump from his folding chair. Talk? Did he suspect something?

"About what?" Randy replied.

Shelton let out a breath, relieved that he wasn't being forced into a conversation. The other men looked at him strangely before returning to the task at hand.

"About who's going to be the GM next week," Chris finished.

Randy looked surprised for a second. "What is there to talk about? It's your turn."

"And why the hell is it my turn?" Chris frowned.

"Isn't it obvious? I was the team captain, so I should get the last show," Randy explained, as if he was the wise old veteran and Chris was the stupid rookie.

As Chris began to steam, Shelton scooted his chair back, as he felt a tussle fest coming on.

"I never voted for you to be the captain!" Chris whined. "You can't just name yourself captain!"

"Unless you're Christian," Shelton interjected with a snort, but stopped when both Chris and Randy glared at him. "I thought it was funny," he sulked quietly to himself.

"Does this even matter anymore? The point is, I was captain, I won the match for us, and I should get the last show."

"You didn't win the ENTIRE match, rookie," Chris growled. "Besides, you can't have a title match."

"I can if you win the title from Hunter next week," Randy said with a grin. Friend or not, he could totally take Chris.

The blond Canadian's eyes narrowed. Shelton scooted his chair back further, just in case. "Let me get this straight: you want me to be the GM next week so I'll fight Hunter. I win, you challenge me to a match, and supposedly will win." At Randy's nod, Chris smacked his forehead loudly. "Rookies! God help you all."

"What? I happen to think it's an excellent plan." _Especially the part where I beat you_, Randy mentally added.

"Idiot, what if I don't win? Then your whole little show is a big fat waste!"

Randy's smirk faltered slightly; he hadn't really thought of that (although, in all honesty, it wasn't his fault. He spent the majority of his time thinking about himself).

Shelton, however, couldn't keep quiet after that. "I must be dreaming; did Chris Jericho just admit that he could LOSE to someone?" he exclaimed.

"Shut it, Benji; it was a 'what if' scenario. Of course I'm going to beat Triple Nose and get that title, but only if I'm running the last show."

"Well that doesn't make any sense. If you can beat him, then why does it matter when?" Randy asked.

Chris grinned broadly. "Because, rookie, he will already be worn out from whatever gauntlet you put him through next week. It'll be a piece of cake."

Randy scratched at his head for a few seconds, mimicking his evolutionary brethren (no pun intended) as he mulled over the situation. "Alright, say I take the GM job next week and run Hunter into the ground…"

"Then I'd say you're talking smart, junior," Chris interrupted.

"Let me finish!" Randy said impatiently. "If I do this, I get the first title shot against you."

"It's a deal!" Chris exclaimed, discreetly crossing his fingers behind his back. If he got his heavyweight title back, his first defense certainly wouldn't be against a rookie! It wouldn't be proper!

Randy saw his arm retreating from his back, and his brow furrowed. "What's with your hand?"

"I had a scratch," Chris said quickly. "Speaking of scratching, I'd better go stretch for my match with Batista. I'm sure I'll see you guys in here later," he said sarcastically, alluding to the 'rookie hangout' status that his locker room had taken.

After Chris had left, Randy gave Shelton a puzzled look. "What did that have to do with scratching?"

* * *

Chris was partially right, in that Randy was still hanging around in his locker room when he won (see: crawled backstage) his match. They were soon joined by Stephanie, who was brimming with the gossip about Evolution. 

"Wouldn't it be great if Dave left them? Then he could be friends with us!" she exclaimed.

Chris growled at that; his girlfriend had a minor crush on Dave Batista, but she assured him that it was only physical 'and she'd never leave him for another muscle-head'. "The guy just knocked me out in the ring, and already you're inviting him to the Thanksgiving party?" he griped.

"I'm sure he already has plans," Steph dismissed as she turned to Randy. "What about you? Aren't you excited that you could have your friend back?"

Randy rubbed the back of his neck sheepishly. "Not really; the dude has always scared me."

"Really?"

"Yeah, I used to have to room with him…" he trailed off, and then shuddered. "Anyway, he's not a softie Steph, so I'd forget about befriending him."

Stephanie sniffed and crossed her arms. "You're wrong; I can just tell he's a big teddy bear who needs some hugs." She winced at Chris's glare. "Platonic hugs, of course."

"Of course," Chris repeated through gritted teeth. If he didn't already have an oversized ego, he'd have a complex over this.

A lightbult then went off above Randy's head. "Hey, I wasn't invited to the Thanksgiving party!" he complained.

His complaint would go unanswered as the door opened then to reveal a worn-out Shelton. He scanned the room, nodding to himself when he saw Steph sitting on Chris's lap. "Good, you're all here," he greeted. "We need to talk."

"Can't you take a shower first, Benji?" Chris requested as he held his nose. "You're a bit ripe."

"Deal with it," Shelton growled, moving to stand before them. He had fretted about this conversation throughout his entire match, nearly causing his team to lose when La Resistance hit him with their finishing move. "Stephanie, Hunter's in cahoots with Bischoff to get you fired."

Stephanie blinked slowly. "Excuse me?"

"And Hunter's also trying to break up you and Chris."

This time, there was no exclamation, outburst, or even an immediate reaction for the first few seconds.

Then, all chaos broke out.

"How did this all happen," Steph moaned.

"I'm going to kill him!" Chris vowed.

"There goes the neighborhood," Randy remarked quietly.

Shelton paced for a moment, trying to find the best way to explain the situation, keeping Chris's short attention span in mind. "Okay, let's start at the beginning. Chris, do you remember when Nidia was getting beat up by Trish and Tomko?" Chris nodded slowly, and Shelton continued. "Well, at the time, Hunter and company were still harassing me about my wins over their precious leader, so I struck a deal with them. They threatened Tomko and Trish, and I'd, well…"

"You what," Chris prompted, not liking how Shelton was bouncing around nervously.

"Well, I would spy on Steph for Hunter."

"You WHAT?" Stephanie screeched.

Shelton held up his hands defensively. "Chill Steph, it's not like I took naked pictures of you!"

Chris stood up, unceremoniously dumping Steph on the ground. "You better not have, rookie, or else…" he threatened.

"Hunter is still pretty obsessed with you, Steph," Randy commented. "Basically, he would make Shelton snoop around your office and tell him anything that he found. One time we… I mean he even made Shelton steal your day planner."

Steph turned to Shelton, who was hanging his head guiltily. "Why would you do this?" she asked quietly, feeling rather vulnerable.

"I couldn't figure out any other way to protect Nidia."

"So you threw them Stephanie," Chris said, cracking his knuckles and approaching his former best friend. "That makes a whole lotta sense, Benji."

"Just… just let me finish," Shelton begged. He wanted to get it all out before Chris (and probably Steph) started wailing on him. "Anyway, when I swiped your planner Steph, Hunter found your little mission statement about taking over Raw. Needless to say, he showed Bischoff."

"Oh shit," Stephanie cursed as she dropped her head in her hands. Under her current contract, she wasn't allowed to breathe the word 'takeover', much less draw up her detailed plan. "If Bischoff shows that to my father, I'm screwed."

"He was going to, but then Orton jumped ship and changed their plans. Hunter temporarily forgot about Steph and started targeting him and his girlfriend…"

"She was never my girlfriend!" Randy grouched, slinking down in his seat. "And I didn't need you to protect me!"

"Shh!" Stephanie hissed. Even though this entire drama involved her, she was sickly engrossed with it. "Nothing ever happened to Nidia or Randy, though, did it?"

Shelton shook his head. "Beyond the ring, no. But in order to do that…"

"You told Hunter about Stephanie and me," Chris finished, feeling ill to his stomach.

Stephanie looked at Shelton in horror. "You didn't!"

"I did."

"Everything?"

"Up until I won the title from you. When we stopped talking, Hunter stopped caring and left me alone."

Chris and Steph both sighed in relief; their relationship had become much more serious since then. "So he thinks he's going to break us up, huh," Chris said, pulling Steph up off the floor and into his arms.

"To quote my father, he's got no chance in hell," Steph said as she tucked her head under Chris's chin.

"Now, as for you Shelton…" Chris trailed off as he tried to push Steph away; however, she was holding on tight. "Babe, let me go so I can kick the crap outta him," he mumbled into her scalp.

While Stephanie enjoyed a good ass kicking, she found herself feeling sorry for their young ex friend. "I think we've got better things to worry about than beating him up," she remarked softly.

Shelton, while a backstabber and a liar, had rendered himself harmless to the power couple; however, he had introduced them to a greater problem by the name of Hunter Hearst Helmsley.

One this was for sure:Shelton was definately uninvited to the Thanksgiving party.

END CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

* * *

Author's notes: The beans have been spilled. Still confused? Probably; it's hard to write a heart-wrenching confession when two of your main characters are Chris and Randy :P Oh well, review with your thoughts. Hope you all enjoyed, and I'll see you next week (by the way, they'll be a special guest next week.... Take care! 


	19. TGM

DISCLAIMER: I do not own Chris Jericho, Chris Benoit, or other wrestlers that appear in the following story. They are the property of the actors and actresses that portray them, as well as the WWE.

SPOILERS: Events from 12-6 Raw. Some mention of the crapfest that was the11-29 Raw.

* * *

Flowers Can't Keep Secrets

CHAPTER NINETEEN

Don't you wish you were him, indeed.

Carrying a blue grocery bag, Chris Jericho held his head high as he walked through the halls of Raw. HIS halls. HIS Raw.

In the words of Christian, tonight was _so_ going to rule.

The female on his arm gave him a smile before breaking away. "I'll come find ya later," she called out as she proceeded down an adjacent hallway.

"No problem, sweetcheeks," Chris replied. After taking a moment to remove all (see: nonexistent) wrinkles from his suit coat, he adjusted his sunglasses and continued on his way.

Four and a half steps later, hew as stopped by one of his fellow wres-, no, employees. "Yes? Did you want to speak to the boss?"

Chris Benoit stoically admired Jericho's suit before frowning. "Yes, I want to speak to you, Boss," he said sarcastically. "Have you made a decision?"

The TGM (or temporary general manager) grinned. "Why yes, I have made a number of decisions today. I decided to stay in bed this morning with my lovely girlfriend and skip breakfast. I decided to have juice and not coffee with breakfast. I decided not to wear underwear…" he trailed off at Benoit's growl. "What?"

"A decision about the title, you moron. And it better be the right one," Benoit threatened.

The new GM suddenly found his cocky attitude evaporating. "Chris, Chris, Chris," he cooed, attempting to diffuse the situation. "OF course I made a decision in your favor. What are friends for, right?"

"Really?" Benoit grinned, already feeling the gold around his waist. Maybe this guy wasn't a giant flake after all.

It is not often that one can call Chris Benoit silly; for having a thought like that, however, it became one of those times.

"Unfortunately," Chris continued, "My decision was vetoed by Vince. He's making the call on the Highlight Reel."

The smile disappeared from Benoit's face. He suddenly craved useful allies, justice, and a Molson Ice. Without another (stoic) word, he stormed down the hallway in search of the head honcho.

Not particularly bothered by Benoit's dismissal, Chris started whistling his theme song as he arrived at his luxurious locker room.

Well, formerly luxurious.

"What the hell is all this?" he exclaimed out loud, eyeing the scary graffiti a la the 'Fresh Prince of Bel-Air'. The posters of him were, of course, breathtaking.

"It's your present, Mr. Jericho sir," a voice spoke behind him.

Chris whirled around, his hands fisted, but merely saw Maven standing behind him. "Jeez, Melvin, when did you become a creepy sidler?"

Maven ignored him, choosing instead to walk across the room and stare into the mirror. IN his reflection, he fancied he could see the maniacal spark of his mentor. But golly gee, was it fun to be the bad guy! "I would like a match with Eugene tonight, Mr. Jericho sir," he said in a fake baritone.

Ooooooh, but even HE got chills down his spine at his evil-sounding voice!

"Uh, ok. Whatever." Pulling his sunglasses down his nose, Chris gave the narcissist a careful once-over. "Something wrong with your face?"

"Yes," Maven hissed, giving himself even more chills. Reaching into his pocket, he pulled out a black crayon and proceeded to try and write those famous initials on his forehead. "What would Al do," he mumbled.

Chris blinked, then called security. The last thing he needed was a crazy rookie to ruin his perfect night (or his perfect face, the psycho).

* * *

"So, will you help me get her number?" Randy asked, dreaming of future rendezvous with a certain D-cup Diva.

Stephanie rolled her eyes. "You hired her; why don't you just get her number yourself? After all, that's all you frickin' did last week," she added under her breath.

In fact, last week had become a sort of distant memory for the majority of the Raw personnel. Beyond the 'controversial' heavyweight title match that ended the show, one was hard-pressed to find anything of value from last week's show. In fact, it was rather like a Russ Meyers flick: full of overstated horror (Edge's possible victory, for example) and large-breasted women.

"I heard that," Randy scowled. Vince McMahon had promptly discarded his one of a kind match, insisting that all breakthrough ideas must originate in him. From there, he was only left with one option: women with the sole skill set of stripping off their clothes and dancing in their underwear. (Actually, he had also come up with the revolutionary Triple H versus Doink the Clown title match; however, that idea had fallen through when no wrestler (save Rob Conway) was willing to put on all that makeup).

Steph shrugged, not particularly caring that the rookie had heard her aside, and continued to peruse the buffet. Since her boyfriend was the TGM, she had given herself the night off from all strenuous activity. "Do you think this macaroni salad looks rancid?"

Randy leaned over and poked the salad in question with the serving spoon. "Looks fine to me." He then paused, and gave her a lengthy once-over. "Actually, you're lookin' pretty fine to me too," he leered.

He received a face-full of macaroni in response. "Save it for the chick, lover boy," Steph admonished with a laugh.

"What? Can't I tell my friend's girlfriend that she looks good?" Randy whined, flicking noodles left and right.

"Chris isn't your friend," she responded mildly. "Ooooh, fried chicken!"

Randy held back a chuckle as he watched the brunette excitedly load her plate with the fatty fried food. Being the ladies' man that he was, he knew better than to make smart-aleck comments to a hungry woman.

Of course, knowing better doesn't always translate into good behavior.

"Geez Steph, you're going to put the Colonel out of business!" Randy remarked, loudly enough that some nearby people snickered along with him.

If steam could have come out of her ears, it would have. Slamming her plate down on the table, she turned to the stupid young man with an angry glare. "Are you TRYING to say something Orton?"

Randy took a step back, a typical male reaction to a woman's rhetoric. "Uh, no?"

"For your sake, I hope not," she hissed. Snatching up a drumstick, she tore a bite out of it and gave him another glare. "Mm ma McMamm mammt!" she yelled over her shoulder as she stormed away.

The rookie quietly watched her go before perusing the catering area for less irate and less complicated women. His lips switched upwards as he spotted a certain blonde-brunette sitting alone at a table, and decided to work his magic.

After all, he never saw any significance in the phrase 'don't shit where you eat'.

* * *

Twenty minutes before the show began, and the TGM found himself with nothing to do. Always resourceful, he decided to go search out and talk to (see: cop a feel on) his girlfriend. Darting through the hallways, he eventually tracked her down and immediately pinned her up against the wall.

"Excuse me, Ms. Technician, but there is a rising matter that requires your hands on attention," he greeted cheekily. Ideally, he hoped to lure her into his office, where a bag of seedless red grapes awaited their arrival.

Normally Steph would reprimand him for his behavior, but the naughty voice in her mind reminded her that HE was her boss for the evening, and she would have to bend to his will. Good thing she had taken up Pilates. "Is that so? I'd love to get a better grasp on the situation, Mr. Jericho; would you mind?"

Chris cocked an eyebrow at her, but remained in character. "Not at all, miss. I suggest that you reach in with both hands and take full control of it."

Steph's smile stretched wider as she ran her hands up his chest. "With my firm hands on the situation, I'm sure it'll soon blow over."

"Ooo baby, I sure hope so!" her boyfriend exclaimed, immediately capturing her lips with his.

As their tongues reacquainted themselves, Chris was trying to remember where the nearest available closet was when, in a bit of déjà vu, a hand clapped on his shoulder. "Jericho," the voice growled.

"So not funny, Benji," Chris grumbled against Steph's lips. "And I still don't think we're speaking to you."

Steph, catching sight of the figure behind Chris, began shaking her head wildly. "Not HIM!" she whispered.

"Not Benji? Is it Randalf?" He frowned as she continued to shake her head. "Benoit? Edge?" Another shake. "Well, who the hell is it so I can tell them to get lost?"

"Try Vincent Kennedy McMahon," the voice behind him prompted.

The color drained from Chris's face as he scrambled to pull his hand out from under Steph's shirt. "Mr. McMahon! I wasn't expecting you!" he squeaked out, standing beside his girlfriend and shoving his hands in his pockets.

"You knew that I'd be here to announce the result of the title match last week," Vince boomed, the veins on his forehead pulsating under his skin.

Chris started. "Oh, of course! I mean, I wasn't expecting you so early, or else I would have met you at the garage!" he explained weakly.

"I called you and told you that I would be kicking off the show," the chairman of the WWE finished, careful to hide the amusement in his voice. Idly he wondered just how loud he'd have to shout to get this little prick to wet his pants.

"That's what I meant," Chris said, his cheeks reddening. Turning back to Steph (who still had her mouth open in shock) he winked. "And that's how you give CPR, Ms. Mahon."

Steph shook herself out of her stupor long enough to glare at her boyfriend. "Gee, thanks Mr. Jericho." Thinking quickly, she then gave him an evil smile. "I'll just go show the rest of the crew. Good luck with the show!" Ignoring her father completely, she gave Chris a little wave before fairly running down the hall.

Chris sent an evil eye after the retreating figure before turning back to his boss. "Technicians; what are you going to do with them?" he remarked glibly.

"They are trouble," Vince agreed. "That one in particular. Anyway, Chris, I thought of a segment for your show tonight, if you don't mind."

Chris didn't mind; anyone who minded what Vince McMahon said would findoneself at the soup kitchen in no time. "Hit me Vincent; I'm all ears."

Vince's eyebrows rose at his proper name, but he chose to ignore it (much in the same fashion that he had ignored what had gone on between this man and his estranged daughter). Grabbing Chris's shoulder firmly, he led him down towards the curtain. "Well, the working name for it is 'Limbo-A-Go-Go'…."

* * *

It was inconceivable.

It was an outrage.

It was…. hilarious.

Hanging his head (which helped him see the ground better; his peripheral vision in the mask was terrible), Christian muttered to himself as he walked through the hallways towards the curtain. The nerve of Chris Jericho, to make a fool out of Captain Charisma! He beat Chris Jericho numerous times! He beat his brother to a pulp! He even beat freakin' Shawn Michaels!

Every time Tomko snickered behind him, his confidence slipped.

Suddenly, a pair of green boots filled his vision. Gritting his teeth, he looked into the brown eyes of the resident superhero/psychopath.

"A hurri-welcome to you, Captain," the Hurricane greeted with an extended hand. "I am the Hurricane, the local evil-thwarter and villain vanquisher. Did you have a long flight here?"

"Am I am Rosey, the massive muscle head and gentle giant," the large man said beside him. "You wouldn't happen to have change for the candy machine, would you Captain?"

Christian cursed loudly in response. "I'm not a freak, you freaks!" he shouted as he stomped around the duo. His hatred for Chris Jericho pumped through his veins; he could only hope that his girlfriend and Triple H (who were currently scheming together) cooked up a plan that would cook Jericho's goose.

Tomko watched his boss storm off before fishing around in his pocket. "Here," he grunted, giving some change to Rosey before hurrying forward. It was the least he could do, after those two had gone and made his night.

* * *

Christian's frustration and poor vision would not serve him well in the ring.

Shelton Benjamin trudged backstage after his victory, nodding at those who congratulated him. Usually he'd be all smiles, shining up his belt and chatting with the crew, but he couldn't bring himself up out of his depression.

He never thought he'd admit this, but he missed being Chris and Stephanie's friend.

Since learning of his deception, he had talked to Chris twice. The first was to inform him that he was still uninvited to the Thanksgiving party. The second, occurring at last week's Raw, told him that while both he and Steph weren't all that mad at him anymore, they had decided to ignore him until Christmas as a proper punishment.

Weeks ago, that would have been a dream come true. But after being subjected to numerous late-night phone calls and scheming sessions, Shelton found himself missing the duo's crazy antics. He missed the gossip. He missed how they found someone new to berate and tease every week.

Basically, he missed being part of a group. The group. The cool lunch table.

"Pull yourself together, rookie," he sneered to himself as he pushed open his locker room door, only to be stopped in his tracks by a pair of familiar chocolate eyes.

"Hiya, Shel," Nidia greeted, standing up from the bench.

"Uh, hi," he responded, wiping the sweat from his brow. His mind spun with the possibilities of her presence. What was she doing here? Did he miss her birthday or something?  
"I guess you won your match," she remarked as she caught sight of his belt. "You should really get a TV in here; I was getting bored waiting around to surprise ya."

"I'll keep that in mind." Hiding his curiosity with nonchalance, he retrieved a towel out of his gym bag. He then gestured towards the bathroom. "If you don't mind…" he said, secretly glad that he had an avenue of escape.

"Steph told me about what you did."

Again, Shelton stopped in his tracks. Even though he wasn't all that surprised, his heart still skipped a beat. "Did she?" he asked, turning to meet her eyes.

"Yeah." Nidia fidgeted under his gaze.

"Is that why you're here? Did you… did you come here to yell at me?" Shelton said wearily. He had already lost two of his friends; he really didn't need the woman of his dreams screaming at him either.

"Why would I yell at you?" she asked curiously. "I mean, I suppose I could be mad that ya never told me, but that doesn't really make sense anymore since I know now, right?"

"Uh, sure." He wiped at his face with the towel, his sweating starting anew with the promise that she wasn't here to cuss him out. "So, why are you here then?"

Nidia weighed the situation in her mind, but decided to go with her gut. Closing the distance between them, she threw her arms around his waist and hugged him tightly, not minding that he was a sweaty mess. "I came here to thank you, you big goof," she mumbled into his chest.

He could feel his ears grow hot at her touch, and was thoroughly embarrassed at his current state. "It was nothing…" he started, patting her shoulders lightly and trying to wiggle out of her grasp.

Nidia wouldn't let him budge. "It wasn't just nothing and you know it." Leaning back, she looked up into his conflicted eyes and smiled. "So?"

"So?" he repeated.

She sighed deeply. "Who'd thought Shelton Benjamin would be so wishy-washy?" she remarked out loud.

His brow furrowed at her words. "What?"

Placing her hands behind his neck, Nidia pulled him down for a brief kiss.

Shelton's eyes widened. "Why did you just do that?" he asked, a tremor running through his voice.

"Because you've always been there for me," Nidia responded. Her grin widened as she reached up to trace his face. "Plus, you're pretty cute, and I like to kiss cute boys."

Shelton blinked, processing her last remark. He then grabbed her around the waist and pulled her closer. "Girl, I hope you know what you're getting into," he warned, letting his left hand wander to the nape of her neck. "This could get messy."

""Promise?" she responded, her grin widening as he sealed their lips together. Life outside of the WWE, after all, was incredibly boring; kissing her best friend was anything but.

END CHAPTER NINETEEN

* * *

Author's notes: Well, that's all I can remember. I pieced this entire chapter together from memory; for those of you tuning in, I have recently become the unfortunate owner of a terrible computer virus. Damn thing wiped out this chapter, a partial Façade chapter, a Christmas one-shot I was working on… basically everything in My Documents folder. I now see the value in backing up your work; don't worry, I asked for a zip drive for Christmas :P

Depending on tomorrow's show, I might just go ahead and combine it with last week's show in chapter 20, just so I can try and catch up. Don't be surprised if I don't post again right away, though; my muses went into cardiac arrest when I got this bloody virus. Oh well, at least I finally hooked up Shelton and Nidia; I've been dying to do that for AGES!

And if I don't have the opportunity beforehand, I'd like to wish you all a great holiday season. Reading your reviews will be the best present I could ask for right now (after the zip drive, of course). Let me know what you thought of this mess of a chapter! Until next time guys, take care of yourselves and be on the lookout for suspicious e-mails.


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